


I'll Eat You Alive

by Arrestzelle



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Pussy AU, Begging, Choking, Derogatory Language, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Light BDSM, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Spanking, Older Man/Younger Man, Painful Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-05-02 01:22:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14533623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle
Summary: Christoph is staying at a hotel for a weekend due to business matters. Unfortunately, he's paired with a neighbor who has no respect for his need for sleep. Christoph has no choice but to confront him. The night evolves into something much more than he anticipated: he never planned to actually fuck the inconsiderate brat.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [christophspowerstance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/christophspowerstance/gifts).



> This is a commission work for the lovely [Lily](https://wiener-blut.tumblr.com/)!! Thank you so much sweetheart ;o; 
> 
> This is an AU based on their personas/characters from the Pussy music video! CEO Schneider and Partyboy Richard hehehe I had a lot of fun writing this. This was originally supposed to be a 5k word commission, but it become 10k words. Whoops.
> 
> Warning for non-consensual spanking at the beginning, as well as derogatory dirty talk and choking. Just read the tags, I guess.

Exhaustion crawls through every single bone and muscle in his body. Following a draining day of conferences, meetings, and presentations which began at _seven in the morning_ , Christoph trudges his way through the hallway to reach his room, on the twelfth floor of the grand hotel building. Balancing his briefcase, his coat, and his scarf in one hand, Christoph manages to dig out the hotel keycard from the pocket of his coat to get the door open.

Relief immediately washes over him upon stepping into the enclosure of the room. He flicks on the entryway light, shuts the door behind himself, and paces in with a sigh. He sets his briefcase on the table and drapes his coat and scarf over the accompanying chair. Running a broad hand through his curly locks, Christoph then collapses into that chair and leans over to begin untying his dress shoes.

Once removed, he rises to work off his tie, which ends up laying across his briefcase atop the table. He strips down to his undershirt and underwear, before grabbing his soft black pyjama pants from his duffel bag. He steps into them—he immediately feels infinitely better. He paces into the adjoined bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth.

Now a little more refreshed and awake, Christoph ties his hair back into a low ponytail before grabbing his briefcase from the table. He unlatches it and pulls it open to remove the folder and his notepad from inside, as well as his pen. Setting them atop the hotel room desk, he drops into the chair and reaches out to turn the lamp on, casting a warm glow across himself and the surface of the desk.

Despite his exhaustion and the late hour, he flips open the folder and his notepad to review all the notes he took throughout the many meetings and conferences. He has to prepare for tomorrow, as well.

Unfortunately, though, not five minutes later, he hears a muted thumping coming from his neighbor’s room. He manages to ignore it for the most part by focusing on the spread before him, though soon comes the telltale moaning of a woman. Christoph rubs vigorously at his face with a hand, irritated, and sighs heavily.

This has happened, without fail, the past two nights. Joined by the constant racket of music and occasional shouting, his neighbor seems to care very little about the comfort of the other people occupying this hotel. Christoph opens one of the drawers, grabs the complimentary writing pad within, and chucks it against the wall. It meets with a sound thud.

There’s a pause. He initially, foolishly thinks they’ll heed his demand, but instead, the volume of her moaning increases, and he can fucking _hear_ laughter in her voice. Christoph rubs at his brow with irritation and contemplates what to do. He doesn’t particularly have any music to block it out, nor ear plugs, because he didn’t bother packing either things. And he can’t really make a noise complaint, because they’re just fucking.

He presses his lips together and decides he’ll just ignore it. He refocuses on his work and goes back to reading. He manages to block it out for the most part, but more than once, it gets far too loud to completely neglect. The moaning and obvious squeaking of the bed disrupts him multiple times, and eventually, he can’t stand it anymore. It’s gone on for maybe thirty minutes. He slaps his pen down, rises from the desk, and grabs a pair of jeans from his duffel bag. He pulls it on over his sleeping pants, dons a plain sweater, and then snags his keycard and wallet. After removing his ponytail and brushing out his curls into something presentable, he shoves out of his hotel room, deciding he could use a goddamn drink at the hotel bar.

 

* * *

 

At six in the morning, the shrill beeping of his alarm clock yanks him from the merciful clutch of slumber. He jerks up and reaches out to switch it off. From across the length of the room, Christoph looks at his reflection found in the mirror above the dresser. He’s grimacing, and his long hair is in a disheveled mess. He looks like shit. Christoph sags forward to prop his elbows against his raised knees, raising his hands to rub tiredly at his eyes.

When he had returned to his room after having a couple fingers of scotch, he was greeted by the additional noise of loud conversation and piercing laughter, as well as the constant racket of drunk, inconsiderate assholes horseplaying. It lasted until two in the _goddamn_ morning which means Christoph got _four hours of sleep_. Anger has no limitation within him, right now.

He groans with vexation as he shoves the covers off himself and crawls lethargically out of bed.

 

Following a much needed, _appreciated_ hot shower and redressing into his professional suit, Christoph makes his way down to the lobby of the hotel to take advantage of the complimentary breakfast. The calming atmosphere of the hotel lobby relaxes his nerves a bit as he approaches the rectangle of tables bearing the offered breakfast choices. With his coat tucked over an arm, Christoph grabs a mug of black coffee, and fixes himself a plate. Toast, with ham and sliced tomato. He fills one of the small styrofoam bowls with strawberries, pineapple, and cantaloupe.

Apparently, _some_ people don’t respect personal space; a man steps up right beside him and rudely reaches past him to grab a banana. Frowning, Christoph eyeballs him with distaste. Then he freezes—it’s his neighbor. He’s seen the prick shoving into his hotel room two nights ago, when he was coming back from a meeting. He’s wearing an atrociously designed button-up. It looks like he grabbed it right out of the ‘80’s; and it’s joined by a _studded choker_. That’s not pretentious at all. With his gelled hair nearly stabbing Christoph in the face due to how close he’s leaning in, the shorter man seems to not even notice his existence at all as he piles his plate with four croissants and multiple packets of marmalade.

“Do you mind? I am _standing_ here,” Christoph snaps, an excessive amount of force lacing his words, even if unintentional. Christoph is a man that values manners, but sometimes, he really cannot tame his anger. Sometimes, his anger tames _him._ The younger man glances up towards him, arching a brow. He has striking green eyes and prominent eyelashes—almost as if he’s wearing mascara. He shrugs and says flatly, “Nope, I don’t.”

Then he turns and strides away, confidently. Christoph grinds his teeth. What a dick.

 

* * *

 

Despite the rocky start to his morning, Christoph eats his breakfast in peace and departs from the hotel with the conference hall the destination in mind. The meetings keep him preoccupied throughout the day, before it winds down to a close at 17:00. Once he’s a free man, Christoph immediately makes his way back to the hotel, with intention to order some room service, take a shower, and then go to bed—obviously, after glancing over his notes, first. He’s so tired.

Like the night before, he changes into leisure clothing and arranges his notes from today on the desk. Before he sits down to review them, he picks up the phone and dials room service, peering down at the menu in his hands.

He decides to treat himself and buy one of the more expensive entrees.

 

Following a filling, pleasing dinner, he tiredly reviews his notes and write down his thoughts he’s gathered upon rereading everything. Thankfully, tomorrow is the last day and then he can fly home.

With a sigh, Christoph puts his papers and notes back into his briefcase and then trudges into the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth for bed.

As soon as he turns off the beside lamp and rests his head upon the pillow, the very distinct, recognizable sound of music begins pounding through the wall behind him. Snapping his eyes open, Christoph stares at his darkened ceiling with pure fury welling up inside of him. He glances at the alarm clock; it’s 22:12. God _damnit._

Throwing the covers off himself, Christoph gets up and strides towards the desk to snatch the phone off the hook. He dials the front desk, which answers almost immediately. A woman who sounds bored says, “Front desk. How can I help you?”

“I’d like to make a noise complaint. I’m in room 145. My neighbor, 146, is playing loud music. I am trying to get some sleep.”

“Of course, sir. It’ll be taken care of.”

“Thank you.”

He hangs up and then rubs his hands over his face with frustration. He runs his fingers through his curly locks and turns to his bed to take a seat on the foot of it. He crosses his arms and waits.

A few minutes later, he hears the faint noise of knocking beyond the racket of the music. The music cuts—Christoph focuses his hearing. He picks up two voices, though he can’t distinguish what they’re saying. The exchange is brief; the sound of the door closing reaches his ears. With a furrowed brow, Christoph waits tensely for that asshole to begin playing his music again, disregarding the request of the staff. A minute later, there’s nothing. Sighing heavily with relief, Christoph then mutters to himself, “Fucking prick.”

Now he can finally get some sleep.

 

Or so he thought. Twenty minutes later, when Christoph is dangling on the precipice of his consciousness, the music starts again. It pierces through his drifting state of mind and jerks him from the edge of sleep. The bass is nearly loud enough to vibrate the wall behind him. Snarling, Christoph lurches up onto an elbow and grimaces. He twists his torso to face the wall and raises a fist to bang it against the wall. A moment later, he hears the volume rise. Now, the walls _are_ vibrating; he can feel it against his fist.

That’s it. Christoph throws off the covers and gets up. He doesn’t even bother changing or putting on shoes; wearing only his [long-sleeved, black sleep shirt](https://78.media.tumblr.com/ffaaac7d6f092b7b122e0adc7fbc3b5e/tumblr_p87559642W1rvajymo1_1280.jpg) and pyjama pants, he throws open the door to his hotel room and strides out. Obviously, he’s going to have to be the one to take care of it. This little brat just has to be put in his place.

At his door, Christoph pounds his fist against it with no intention to stop until he opens the fucking door. Surprising him, it doesn’t take long—the door is unlocked and yanked open, the music still blaring. Revealed to him is the sight of the man who he saw at breakfast earlier this morning. He has an aloof, uncaring expression on his pretty face. Propped against the doorframe and staring at Christoph with lidded eyes, Christoph searches in them and realizes they’re shot to hell. He looks totally wasted. He isn’t wearing that hideous shirt anymore; he’s dressed in jeans and a black shirt with striped sleeves which reach his elbows.

“Turn the music down, _now.”_ Christoph commands coldly, grimacing. The other man arches a brow.

“Now why should I do that? I personally like it when it’s loud.”

“Because otherwise, I’ll turn it down myself,” Christoph snaps, jabbing a finger at him threateningly. The younger man squints at him and straightens up from the doorframe.

“Look, old man. Maybe if you ask _kindly,_ I’ll consider it,” he sneer with a curl of his lip, noticeably slurring. Christoph glances past his shoulder; he doesn’t see anyone else occupying the hotel room. But one thing’s for sure: the room is a disastrous mess. The covers on both beds are tangled to hell, there’s empty alcohol bottles of various kinds strewn about, as well as clothing. There are multiple ash trays full of spent cigarette butts; one atop the dresser, another on the cluttered dining table, one on the floor by the beds. Christoph meets his bloodshot eyes again and says lowly, sternly, his piercing blue eyes dark and dangerous, “No. You should respect the people around you, because those people have to deal with your sorry ass being in their vicinity. Now turn down the _fucking_ music. This is your last chance.”

It’s not often he inserts swear words into his speech with other people; it doesn’t fit his image. But obviously, image is what this brat lacks. In fact, eying him up and down, Christoph can tell he’s completely lost as a person. It doesn’t take a very perceptive person to see it. He’s got a snotty look on his face, a pompous posture, and an attitude that reads ‘I don’t give a shit’. He looks like he’s a kid who doesn’t know himself, doesn’t know his parents, doesn’t know anyone. Maybe his parents are rich and let him fuck around like this. They obviously don’t give a damn. They probably let him roam free like this just so _they_ don’t have to deal with him. Throwing money at his face just so he leaves and stays gone. How old is this guy anyways? Usually at this point, people learn to grow the hell up.

The other man laughs. He actually _laughs._ Christoph wants to punch him in his stupid little smug face.

“I know it sucks being an old man who’s all work and no play,” the younger man begins, rolling his eyes before settling them on Christoph again, “But that doesn’t mean you can put a stop to _my_ fun. So you can just fuck off. I don’t give a shit about what you want.”

And _there’s_ that attitude Christoph anticipated. He begins to shut the door, but Christoph shoots a hand out to slam it open against the wall—the other man stumbles back, taken off-guard. He looks at Christoph incredulously, frowning. Christoph takes a step in and reaches out to grab him by the shirt; and he does not look very happy about that.

“What is your name, kid?” Christoph asks, voice level and eyes hard, his jaw clenched. The other man looks him up and down, brow furrowed—obviously judging him. Christoph waits patiently. He hesitates, eying Christoph distrustfully, before speaking flatly.

“Richard. Richard, who would not hesitate to kick your wrinkly old ass. Get your hand off of me.”

“No,” Christoph begins as he steps closer, inching Richard back by the fistful he retains of his shirt. Richard, as drunk as he is, stumbles back slightly, a confused, angry look on his face. Christoph reaches back to swing the door shut with his other hand while forcefully pushing Richard further into the hotel room.

“I think I will be the one doing such a thing,” Christoph begins, leaning in closer to Richard with a glare twisting his slender features, his icy blue eyes piercing. Richard shrinks a bit, looking up at him with wide, shocked eyes. He’s smaller than Christoph, and it definitely shows now.

“Wh-what? You’re joking right?” Richard stutters, appearing to be _much_ less courageous now that he’s faced with the real threat of violence, “It’s just fucking music, man! I’m too drunk for this shit!”

“Consequence is a common occurrence in life,” Christoph begins coldly, seething now with narrowed eyes, “Your parents failed to teach you that. I can take their place and show you what happens when you’re being a bad boy.”

Then with the tight fistful of Richard’s shirt, Christoph shoves him back onto one of the beds. Richard collapses atop it with a shocked grunt and then looks up at the other man with wide eyes; his shirt is haphazard on his body, his hair becoming unraveled from its gelled state. Before his morality and consideration could catch up to him, Christoph reaches out to grab him. Richard shouts and flails a bit, stammering in a cry, “Wait! I’ll turn it down!”

Silently, Christoph forcefully manhandles him despite his drunken struggling; he takes a seat beside him on the bed and _tugs_ his smaller body across his lap. Disoriented, Richard lays sprawled, haphazardly, across his lap with his legs hanging off the bed. After regaining his composure, Richard grabs onto the edge of the bed and tries to pull himself away, but Christoph puts a stop to that by planting his elbow into the center of his back and bearing his weight against him. The painful pressure against Richard’s spine has him locking up. He grunts in pain and opens his mouth to shout a string of curses at him, but a hard, firm spank to his ass through his jeans renders him speechless. The cracking sound fills the room, overlapped by Richard’s pounding music.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Richard shouts, twisting his torso to shove his hand up against Christoph’s face. Swiftly, Christoph grabs the wrist of that hand and forcefully twists his arm behind his back to keep him restrained. Richard bucks a bit, lethargically, as he pants loudly and growls, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Let me go!”

Christoph ignores him and just focuses on keeping him pinned with the weight of his body. Richard wiggles underneath him, failing to make any sort of escape. Christoph cocks back his hand again and then lets it swing forward to connect with his ass. Richard jerks and makes a shocked grunt. The metal buttons on the back of his jeans are painful against Christoph’s hand. Deciding he’ll take care of that, Christoph hooks his fingers into the waistband of his jeans to forcefully tug them down, ripping them down his ass to his thighs. He hears something pop—must’ve been the button of his jeans.

“Ow!” Richard snaps, attempting to yank his wrist out from Christoph’s iron-grip hold, his other hand squeezing around Christoph’s calf, nails digging in. “That fucking hurt, you asshole!”

Christoph takes notice of the fact he’s not struggling as violently as he could be, whether through physical or verbal means.

Now that his ass is exposed to him, kept modest by his tight, black briefs, Christoph withdraws his hand again to raise it high. With a whip of his arm, he lets his palm connect with Richard’s clenched ass, his long curls swinging from the violent motion. Richard jerks and sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. He wiggles on Christoph’s lap, but had gone noticeably silent save for his heavy breathing.

Without a word, Christoph does it again. He raises his hand, swings it down to spank it across the center of his ass, with excessive force this time. Richard bucks and cries out, his legs kicking up and head thrown back. Christoph does it again, and again, and _again,_ the cracking noise of his hand meeting Richard’s ass joining the racket of his music. Each time, Richard grunts or cries out, his body twisting and clenching.

Christoph speeds up the pace; he spanks him across his ass repeatedly, harder and _harder,_ until Richard is wiggling violently and shouting. Then down to his thighs, which he generously covers with quick, hard spanks of his hand, until they’re both tinted an abused red. Christoph spanks his ass one, two, _three_ more times with _full force_ , putting his upper body strength into it—it earns him a breathless bellow from Richard.

Only then does Christoph realize Richard is hard. He can feel his erection against his thigh, through the thin layers of Richard’s briefs and Christoph’s pyjama pants. Christoph falters, shocked.

His disbelief joined by his hand throbbing with agony has him deciding he’s finished. He’s done enough. Without consideration for the other man, Christoph shoves him off of his lap; Richard collapses onto his side on the floor, his jeans hanging off his legs. Rising from the bed, Christoph begins kneading at his reddened hand while staring down at the younger man with a stony expression. Richard is shaking. He turns his head to look up at Christoph.

Christoph freezes when he sees tears running down his cheeks. His eyes are watery and vulnerable, his face flushed and mouth agape. Guilt rears up and swallows Christoph whole. He never meant to make the man cry. Jesus.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Christoph mutters, brow furrowing and lips twisting into a frown. Richard looks shocked from that statement. Then Christoph steps over him and approaches the stereo. Reaching out, he impatiently twists the volume knob until it’s reduced to silence. Then he makes for the door—he feels sick.

“Wait!” Richard calls, his voice cracking. Christoph slows to a stop and then turns to look at him warily. Richard wipes roughly at his cheeks and then plants his hands on the floor to unsteadily stand. Grabbing his jeans, he pulls them back up and approaches the other man, stumbling over clothing along the way. Christoph watches him closely, unsure of his intentions. Richard then collapses to his knees in front of him and looks up at him with pleading eyes.

“Please, stay. Let me… Let me make it up to you. I can… I can do _things_ for you,” he breathes, hopeful and desperate with red cheeks and embarrassment flashing in his green eyes. Christoph’s head recoils slightly as if he had been slapped with the shock that hits him. He looks down at Richard with appallment.

“What? What are you saying?” Christoph demands with disbelief, his face twisting into a baffled expression. Richard sniffles and bites his lip. He reaches out to delicately rest his hand over Christoph’s leg; he curls it around to squeeze his strong calf through the thin layer of his black pyjama pants. Christoph freezes.

“This doesn’t have to end like this,” Richard begins lowly, staring up into his wide cerulean eyes, “I want you to… Do more to me. You can hurt me more, whatever man, I just… Fuck.”

He looks away, his face alight with an intense blush.

“I need it,” he mumbles, grimacing with humiliation. He lets out a breath, bites his lip with reluctance, and then goes on to say quietly, “…I want a man like you to tear me into pieces.”

The repulsion is ebbed away by the spark of arousal beginning in Christoph’s belly. Richard, despite being a complete stranger, managed to push the right buttons. Christoph is an absolute dom through and through. He has practiced such things in the past with his previous partners. A man kneeling at his feet, begging with tears in his eyes, is the man he prefers—and _hardly_ a man at that.

Christoph has engaged in therapeutic BDSM before. He knows the effects it has on people. It seems Richard needs a release in a way beyond what a typical therapist can do. An expulsion of repressed and pent up frustration through the violent, but careful, sex found in the bedroom. Seeing him now, clinging to him, gazing up at him with hope and humiliation, Christoph knows what to do.

“Take your hand off me,” he mutters, darkly. Richard’s face falls. He looks both frustrated and disappointed as he does as he’s told. He pulls his hand away and tightens it into a fist to rest upon his jean-clad thigh. Christoph reaches down to curl two fingers under Richard’s chin. He tips his head back, gently. Richard’s irritated expression shifts to shock, his eyes trained up on Christoph’s handsome features.

Christoph searches his face with a schooled expression, his long locks falling to shroud his face. He speaks lowly in a murmur, saying, “Listen to me closely. I’ll do what you want. But let’s get a few things straight: I am not doing it out of the kindness of my heart. I think you’re a spoiled brat because you’ve caused me only frustration and a lack of sleep throughout the last three days. It’s for my own gain; to see you suffer as you’ve made me suffer. Now, I don’t want to hurt you excessively. I’m not that kind of man. Your safeword will be ‘smoke’. Understand?”

Richard’s face shifts from surprise to withdrawn displeasure. He seems put-off by Christoph calling him a brat, but he doesn’t talk back. He just presses his lips together and nods.

Retracting his hand, Christoph gestures to the bed with a tilt of his head and says firmly, in command, “Remove your pants and get on the bed.”

Immediately, Richard stumbles up onto his feet as he makes for the hotel bed, stepping out of his jeans along the way, leaving him only in his underwear and the long-sleeved shirt. He climbs on and turns to flop back against the cluster of pillows. Christoph, meanwhile, approaches the nightstand; he pulls open the drawer and finds an opened box of condoms. He pulls one out and pushes aside the random junk in the drawer in hopes of finding lube.

“Do you have lube?” Christoph asks, after failing to find such thing, training his calm gaze on the other man who waits patiently atop the bed, his hands fidgeting together. Richard pauses, and then shakes his head.

“No. Should we go get some?”

“If I leave this hotel room, I’m not coming back,” Christoph remarks, slamming the drawer shut again. Richard shuts his mouth and looks at him with faint concern. Christoph then climbs onto the bed, raised up on his knees, and says flatly, “Remove your underwear and get on your stomach.”

“Look, if you don’t want to do this, forget it,” Richard begins impatiently, seemingly coherent again. A frustrated expression is on his face. Christoph pauses and searches Richard’s glassy green eyes.

“It’s apart of the façade, genius,” Christoph remarks, smirking, “I thought you wanted me to tear you apart. Harshness is part of the game.”

Realization blooms on Richard’s face. He then frowns, embarrassed.

“Right,” he says, “I just wasn’t sure if you even wanted to. You were acting flippant.”

“I’m not exactly thrilled to be fucking the man who’s been costing me sleep,” Christoph replies, barely withholding the urge to roll his eyes, “I’m willing. Now take off your underwear and get on your damn stomach.”

Richard finally obeys. He brings his legs up, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his briefs to tug them down his legs and off his body. Then he turns to clutch one of the pillows in his arms as he gets settled on his front. He peers at Christoph past his shoulder. Christoph stares at his ass; it’s bearing a vibrant red, from the punishment it had received five minutes before. It’s a very appealing sight and has blood rushing into Christoph’s lower half. A sliver of eagerness swells inside of him as he scoots closer to the other man, until his knees press against his thigh. He sets the sealed condom down and reaches out to place a hand upon his reddened ass to spread him open.

Leaning in, Christoph spits thickly onto him, and then sweeps his fingers down between his ass cheeks to lather it over him.

“Uh, gross,” Richard complains, earning a flick of cold blue eyes. He’s grimacing. Christoph looks unamused.

“You literally defecate from here. I don’t think spit is any worse.”

“Oh, that’s hot to bring up.”

“Shut your mouth and stop staring at me, you fucking brat. Stay still.”

Richard huffs and turns his head away to hide his face in the pillow. Christoph shifts closer and removes his fingers from his ass to spit on him again. Now thoroughly coated in his saliva, Christoph angles his fingers to slowly, firmly push one into him. Richard tenses up and sucks in a breath. Christoph pans his gaze up along his muscular body; his skin is pale and smooth, with slopes of muscle giving him a shapely figure that is quite beautiful. He has a great body.

Reaching out, Christoph hikes up his shirt, exposing the wide plane of his back. He places his hand in the center of his shoulder blades. He strokes his touch down along the slope of his spine, fingernails bared and dragging along soft skin, leaving goosebumps and lines of red in his wake. Richard shudders.

Then once his hand meets his ass, he spanks him sharply across a red asscheek while languidly moving his finger in and out of him. Richard makes a choked noise, his feet jerking up from the bed. He keeps his face pressed into the pillow, like a good boy. Christoph gropes his backside, hard enough to hurt, his calm blue eyes trained down on his body which clenches and swells every time Christoph squeezes his sore ass in his hand.

Christoph then curls a second finger up to join the first; he slowly pushes it in alongside his index finger. Richard grunts into the pillow. He’s really tight, and he keeps squeezing around his fingers. Christoph spreads his ass open again to watch himself move his fingers. Richard is silent, though he’s breathing hard enough for it to be audible to the other man. Christoph gropes his asscheek in his broad hand and then retracts his grasp to spank him again with a harsh whip of his hand. Richard jerks and grunts, his knee lurching up to knock into Christoph’s folded leg. Christoph does it again, this time reaching over to strike him across his other reddened asscheek.

“Fuck!” Richard gasps, his hand shooting back to clutch at Christoph’s wrist. Christoph grabs his hand and shoves it away, snapping, “Don’t touch me. Stay still. I’m doing this for your gain, so you will let me do as I please.”

“Oh, God,” Richard breathes, and then surprising Christoph entirely, he mumbles quietly, so quietly Christoph barely catches it, “Y-Yes, sir.”

Damn. He’s a quick learner. Christoph fails to repress the slight smile that twitches at his lips. He rewards Richard by massaging at his stinging backside, while twisting his wrist to curl his fingers down towards his belly. He gets an immediate reaction: Richard’s body twitches, his inner muscles clamping around his fingers. He gasps and breathlessly says, “What the fuck?”

He turns his head to look back at Christoph with shock. Frowning, Christoph reaches out to clutch the back of his head and shove his face down into the pillow. Richard grunts, surprised. Speaking lowly, Christoph says firmly, “I said don’t look at me. Be respectful.”

Apparently, Richard isn’t aware of his prostate, judging by his reaction. Probably just has his head under the sand; or rather, kept between the legs of a woman. Is this his first time with a man? It must be.

Christoph begins curling his index and middle fingers down towards his belly repeatedly, hard and fast enough it has the tendons in his wrist flexing from the strain. Richard jolts like he’s been electrocuted. He groans, muffled into the pillow. Christoph keeps that grasp around the back of his head as he repeatedly pumps his fingers into him, down against his prostate, until Richard is trembling and moaning continuously into the pillow. Christoph doesn’t stop. He continues roughly stimulating him with hard curls of his fingers—his wrist begins to burn, but he ignores it. Then suddenly, Richard jerks his head back, gasping sharply and crying out, “Fuck! Oh, fuck!”

Considering his erection is pressed down against the bed between his thighs, Christoph sees it when he comes; his cum shoots out to sully the sheets between his shaking legs. Well, he didn’t think it would be that fast. He continues roughly fingering his prostate with repetitive curls of his fingers, until Richard stops twitching and moaning. When he goes lax, panting and trembling, Christoph resumes pushing his fingers in and out of him. Raising his hand, he spanks him across his ass again; Richard flinches and whines. Christoph laughs—he couldn’t help it. Hearing him whine is far too pleasing.

That seemed to humiliate the other man. He curls his head into the pillow and remains silent. Christoph spanks him again, this time over his thigh. He strikes his hand across the back of it four more times, until Richard jerks and grunts. Then he spanks him, _hard,_ across his smarting, reddened asscheek, which has Richard twisting his body away and moaning in pain. Christoph rises up onto his knees, gaining leverage to manhandle Richard—he shoves him back down onto his belly and pins him down by planting his knee on his back. With this position, Christoph slaps his hand across each asscheek again and again. Richard jerks violently underneath him, crying out. His hand shoots back to clutch at Christoph’s thigh.

Without reprieve, Christoph spanks him across his clenched backside with his broad hand, harder and harder and _harder,_ until Richard is desperately struggling to get out from under his weight, crying out and pleading, “Please! Please, oh, God!”

“Please _what?”_ Christoph demands above the noise of his cries as he continues raining strikes of his hand across his angry red ass. Richard’s desperate thrashing makes it difficult to aim his hand, as well as keeping him pinned; Christoph’s long curls gets in his line of sight, further obstructing his aiming. He can tell Richard is reaching his breaking point, based on his struggling and crying. Due to this, he stops and begins massaging at his sore ass with slow, gentle squeezes of his hand. Richard collapses into the pillows and moans, weakly.

The twisting and turning had Christoph’s fingers slipping out. First, Christoph moves to kneel over Richard’s back. He sits down on him and then leans in, spreading his ass with his thumbs digging into flushed skin, to spit onto his slick hole again. Then he rubs his wet fingers against him before pushing them deeply into his body. Richard shifts and moans. Christoph immediately begins to force in a third, slowly and carefully. Richard grunts.

“Fuck me, please,” he mumbles, hoarsely. Christoph says nothing, he just begins thrusting his three fingers into him. Richard arching his ass back into it with his thighs spreading further apart as a gesture of eagerness is arousing and turns Christoph on. Richard makes a slight noise into the pillow each time Christoph shoves his fingers into his body.

“I can feel your hard dick against my back,” Richard pants, “I want it in me, c’mon.”

“Impatient,” Christoph chides, and in punishment, strikes him across his ass again. Richard jerks and whimpers. Good. His pride is deteriorating.

“Be a good boy and I’ll fuck you,” Christoph growls, squeezing his sensitive ass in his sore hand. Richard tries pushing his ass back against his fingers—Christoph notices. He removes his fingers entirely, earning a frustrated groan.

“I’ll suck your cock—just, please,” Richard begs, squeezing his hand around Christoph’s ankle. Christoph actually likes the sound of that. This brat choking on his dick is something he’d like to see.

“Fine,” Christoph agrees, and then gets off of him. Richard immediately moves to sit up, and then winces with a hiss of pain. Christoph smirks, amused. He watches Richard’s face, seeing it twist with discomfort. Sitting back on the heels of his feet, Christoph says, “Well, come on. You offered, so deliver.”

Richard doesn’t look so confident now, kneeling in front of the other man. Christoph knows he’s never sucked cock before. He’s never been with a man at all. It must be daunting. Richard seems hesitant. Christoph encourages him by reaching down to pull down his pyjama pants, enough for his erection to spring up against his belly. Richard stares, wide-eyed. Christoph reaches out to grab a fistful of his hair. He tugs him, which has Richard cursing in pain and stumbling forward. He collapses down onto his forearms, his cheek meeting Christoph’s thigh.

“Open your mouth,” Christoph orders. Richard obeys; he opens his mouth, reluctantly at first. Christoph grips his cock and angles it down to slide the head into his mouth. Richard makes a face, though Christoph keeps a firm grip in his gelled hair so he can’t pull back. Richard’s mouth is hot and wet; it feels amazing. Christoph clenches his jaw as he arches his hips up, slowly forcing more into his mouth. Richard makes a slight gurgling noise, his hands jerking up to clutch at Christoph’s thighs. Eyes clenched shut, Richard tries to accept it. He gags suddenly, his back curling and tongue convulsing against Christoph’s shaft.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Christoph murmurs, his eyes lidded and mouth slightly open with pleasure, “Close your mouth and suck.”

Richard takes a second to adjust to the intrusion in his mouth, but he ultimately does as he’s told, slowly. He closes his lips around his shaft and begins to suck, cheeks hollowing. His eyes flick up to meet Christoph’s; they’re watery and pleading. Christoph lets out a shuddering breath. He begins to rock his hips slowly, a gradual back and forth that has Richard squeezing his eyes shut and sputtering around his cock. Christoph hums and praises lowly, “Good boy. Look at you sucking my cock. You’ve never done this before, have you? Well, you’re not half bad. But you’re making a big mess. Look at you drooling everywhere. You’re disgusting.”

Choking around his cock, Richard then makes a slight noise of humiliation, his hands squeezing around his thighs. Christoph hums lowly as he continues smoothly rocking his hips, thrusting gently into Richard’s tight mouth. With his curls shrouding his flushed face, his blue eyes lidded and mouth slightly open, Christoph looks composed and beautiful, while Richard is crying and drooling, his face in a grimace. Richard chokes again, another thick line of drool escaping his lips to drip onto the covers, and then pulls back, against Christoph’s hand. Christoph keeps the hold in his hair, but he lets him have a breather.

Panting heavily, Richard coughs a few times and looks up at Christoph with dripping eyes.

“Please fuck me now,” Richard breathes, and then swallows thickly. Christoph smirks faintly.

“No. I’m not satisfied,” he murmurs, nearly a purr. Then he pulls on his hair gently, saying, “Come on. Back in your mouth.”

Richard moans in dread but does as he’s told. He ducks his head and opens his mouth. For leverage, Christoph plants his hand back against the bed and arches his hips up, sliding his slender cock into his mouth again. Richard immediately begins to suck tightly, without being ordered to. Christoph breathes heavily, his eyes closing. He resumes pumping his hips, fucking Richard’s mouth with slight thrusts. Richard chokes and coughs when Christoph goes in too far. Hand gripping Richard’s hair, he keeps his head still as he rocks his hips, working his cock back and forth in his mouth. It feels so good, both in sensation and the domination—Christoph doesn’t want to stop.

But he doesn’t want it to end prematurely. Christoph curls his hand around the back of Richard’s neck and firmly holds him still as he slowly forces the entirety of his cock into his throat, Richard’s nose meeting his pubic hair. Richard gags and pushes at Christoph’s thighs; his throat clenching around his cock feels wonderful. But he doesn’t want to make the poor man throw up. So, Christoph relents and slides out of his mouth. Wracked with coughs, Richard turns his head away. He sucks in sharp breaths and then looks up at Christoph with submissiveness on his face.

Tears are running down his cheeks, his lips swollen from use, with spit coating his chin. That is such a good look on him. Christoph smiles, flicking his long locks out of his slender face as he commands, “Now get on your stomach again. I’ll do what you want now.”

Richard nods—his sense of self and pride is seemingly completely demolished. It’s a satisfying development. While Richard gets settled, Christoph grabs the condom, rips it open, and slips it down over his shaft, slick with Richard’s saliva. Then he gets up and moves over him. He aligns his hips with his ass and lets his cock settle between his asscheeks; Richard moans and pushes his ass back against the slope of his hips. Christoph spits into his hand and reaches down to stroke it over his length as generously as he is able to. Then he sweeps it down between Richard’s asscheeks to rub it against him. Again, Richard moans.

Slowly, with a tight fist around the base, Christoph carefully arches his hips in. Considering spit isn’t the greatest lubricant, it’s not as smooth as it would be if they _did_ have lube. Richard grunts when he gradually sinks inside him, his hands clutching fistfuls of the pillow. Christoph pants shakily on top of him, a few curly locks fluttering in front of his mouth. He watches as he carefully eases the remainder in, until his pelvis meets Richard’s ass. He bears his weight into him, resting atop him and letting him grow accustomed to the feeling. Richard is moaning again, his face tucked into his elbow.

“Does it hurt?” Christoph asks lowly, leaning in closer to the other man to whisper into his ear—his long locks brush across Richard’s skin. Richard nods into his arm. Christoph suspected as much. If this really is his first time getting fucked by a man, with spit being their only lubricant, he imagines it doesn’t feel amazing.

At least, not yet.

For a long minute, Christoph simply rests on top of him, giving his body time to accept the intrusion. He normally would touch and kiss his partner at this point, but Richard doesn’t deserve that from him. He just waits, until he deems it good enough and begins to slowly withdraw, earning a grunt from the other man.

Then he carefully sinks back in. Richard sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth, lifting his head with a grimace on his face. Christoph shushes him and continues the slow, easy tempo. Slide out gradually, sink back in with a slow roll of his hips. Richard is so tight, so much so it makes it hard for him to push back in. His body fights it, puts up a resistance that Christoph has to force his way through even if he fingered him thoroughly.

“Fuck,” Richard breathlessly hisses, his knuckles becoming white as he tightens the grip on the pillow. Christoph hums softly and leans in to rest his lips against Richard’s shoulder. He continues rocking his hips, slowly and deeply, until he begins to move at a quicker pace. Slightly and subtly, he speeds up his thrusting, from gradual rolls of his hips to quick pumps that has Richard grunting and groaning and hissing with pain. It feels amazing—for Christoph. He’s grunting himself, but in pleasure rather than in discomfort.

“Oh, fuck,” Richard gasps, jerking a shaking hand back to press it against Christoph’s thrusting hips, “It s-still hurts—you’re so fucking big.”

“Bear it,” Christoph murmurs, breathlessly, uncaring. Richard moans and digs his nails into Christoph’s side as he continues fucking him. The sound of their bodies connecting fills in the silence of the hotel room, accompanied by Christoph’s panting and Richard’s loud groaning. Soon, the groaning becomes sounds of pleasure, a weak exclamation of enjoyment every time their lower halves connect. Christoph supposes it’s starting to feel good.

“Oh, fuck!” Richard gasps again, louder this time. He slides his thighs further apart, which makes for a better angle for him. It has him groaning and breathing, “Oh God, just like that. That feels so good.”

Leaning back from him, Christoph curls his hands around the small of his back and keeps him pinned as he begins to snap his hips against him with more force. Gaze downcast, he watches his flushed shaft drive into his ass again and again. Richard begins to moan loudly, his hand sliding back up over the bed to clutch at the pillow. Christoph is beginning to realize he’s loud in every sense; god knows their neighbor can hear this. Christoph pounds into him with driving bucks of his hips that has their lower halves connecting in jarring smacks of skin against skin. Richard is moaning like a goddamn whore the entire time, though he goes silent when Christoph has to slow down to regain his breath and energy.

Thighs burning, Christoph rests back on his heels, panting heavily. His hands slide down from Richard’s back to grope his ass, still reddened from the spanking its received. Pulling his asscheeks apart, Christoph admires the sight of his cock inside of him. He never really imagined he would be in this position, much less considered it. He didn’t plan on fucking his hotel neighbor.

His long-sleeved sleep shirt is clinging uncomfortably to his skin with sweat. Removing his hands from the younger man, he grasps it and tugs it off of himself, exposing pale skin and a soft belly. Then he rises from the bed, momentarily withdrawing from Richard to do so. It earns him a dazed, confused look. He realizes what Christoph’s up to when he steps out of his pyjama pants and underwear, leaving him considerably more naked than Richard.

Climbing back onto the bed, Christoph moves to lay against the headboard and pillows as he says, “Now you’re going to ride me. I’m not going to be doing all the work.”

Richard doesn’t complain. He gets up, unsteadily, and crawls over Christoph’s slender body. Christoph reaches out to run his broad hands across trembling, muscular thighs. Then he clutches Richard’s striped shirt in hand and draws it up over his torso, exposing beautiful muscle and a fit chest. Richard raises his arms, letting him pull it off and toss it aside.

Then Richard arches up on his knees and reaches back to grip his slick cock. With his bottom lip between his teeth, Richard focuses on angling it. He keeps it in place with a fist as he begins to slowly sit down on it. It slips down over his taint at first, which has Richard blushing and Christoph exhaling with impatience, but a readjustment and a second try has it sinking inside of him. Richard moans and plants his hands on Christoph’s midsection. Christoph rests his hands on his hips, eyes lidded and cheeks tinted a rouge. His messy curls surround his face like a halo, against the pillows.

In this position, Christoph can tell he’s hard again. Just how young is this kid, if he can get hard again that quickly? His musing is thrown out the window when Richard begins to move.

Eyes lidded and mouth agape, Richard watches Christoph’s handsome face as he rocks up and down on his cock. Richard is silent as he rides him, his brow slightly furrowed. He’s considerably less responsive; must be the unsatisfying position. It doesn’t stimulate his prostate this way. Christoph digs his nails into his hips and plants his feet on the bed for leverage. He supposes he’ll fix that: he begins to thrust up into him as he comes down—that has Richard gasping sharply and collapsing forward onto a hand.

“Don’t stop,” Christoph growls, hooking his hands under Richard’s thighs to forcefully pull him up and force him back down. Richard moans shakily as he refocuses on dropping down on his cock, as Christoph drives up into him. It creates a deeper, more powerful fucking that throws Richard forward slightly with each thrust. Richard, eyes squeezed shut, whines with a grimacing face as he shakes on top of the older man. Breathing shakily, Christoph attempts to maintain the fast pace—he’s not as energetic as he used to be. He continues thrusting up into Richard, even if Richard himself had stopped. He only realizes why when jets of cum shoot out to decorate his chest and neck.

“Again?” Christoph breathlessly laughs, “You’re really enjoying this aren’t you? You’re such a fucking whore.”

Richard moans shakily, eyes clenched and cheeks flushed, and then cries as he continues orgasming, “Yes, yes! Fuck me, please! Oh, God!”

His nails are digging into Christoph’s skin. He’s clenching up real fucking hard around Christoph and it has his thrusts stuttering. Christoph grunts and shoves up into him a dozen more times as he snarls, “I hear you fucking those women—who knew you were just a slut for cock? Here you are, coming all over another man as he fucks your ass. You’re just easy.”

Delirious from coming, Richard nods, whimpering, and drags his nails down Christoph’s belly, which has Christoph grimacing in pain. He shoots a hand up to grab onto Richard’s throat, earning an alarmed look from wide green eyes. Christoph rolls them over and forces Richard down against the pillows. He keeps him pinned by the throat and squeezes, hard enough it has Richard wincing. Richard chokes and reaches up to clutch at Christoph’s forearm. Christoph begins fucking him again with violent snaps of his hips, jerking both Richard and the bed. Richard makes a choked gurgling noise, his face shifting between pain and pleasure.

“Good boy,” Christoph breathlessly says, grinning, his blue eyes wide and trained on Richard’s red, grimacing face, “Hold still and accept it. I’m almost done.”

Richard cracks his eyes open and looks up at him weakly, his teeth grit with the veins in his forehead bulging. Noticing, Christoph realizes just how hard he’s squeezing his neck and loosens his grasp just enough for Richard to choke down some air. He doesn’t want to seriously hurt him.

“Come in me,” Richard grunts out hoarsely past the grip on his throat, his eyes bloodshot and watery, “Fill me, come on.”

Christoph doesn’t remind him he’s wearing a condom. But, Richard begging for such a thing is hot regardless. Considering he had been teetering on the edge of ecstasy, that’s all it took for the pleasure to swallow Christoph whole. He breathes heavily as he thrusts into Richard a dozen more times before coming to a stop, pressed in deep with their lower halves connected. Richard watches his face intently as he hits his orgasm, his hand tightening around Richard’s throat—Richard chokes. Christoph lets out a ragged, shuddering breath as the pleasure rushes over him. It traps him in the intense, breath-taking moment of blinding euphoria, a feeling that explodes like fireworks in his belly. Some of his curly locks cling to his face and mouth with both sweat and saliva, his mouth agape and eyes closed. Richard moans, feeling his shaft flex inside of him as he shot his load into the condom.

Regaining his composure, Christoph pants heavily, opening his eyes dazedly. He stares down at Richard’s reddened, submissive face while he comes down from it. Then he slowly releases his throat and pulls out of him. He collapses beside the other man, jostling the bed. He runs his hands up over his face, brushing back hair and wiping away sweat. Beside him, Richard is melting back into the pillows, breathing heavily and breathlessly. Christoph would rather just lay here, but unfortunately, he has to take care of the condom. After getting up, ripping off the condom, and tossing it into a trash bin, he collapses back into bed and heaves a sigh. The realization of what the fuck just occurred hits him like a truck.

“Why did we do this,” he mutters, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. That earns him a breathless laugh and a glance from amused green eyes.

“Well, the regret didn’t take long.”

“Shut up. You’re still a brat. And apparently a whore; you didn’t need to wake up the entire floor.”

“Whatever. If you’re going to sour the whole thing, just get out.”

Christoph drops his hand and looks at the younger man. Richard is staring at him with a frown and flushed cheeks. It’s actually kinda cute. Christoph manages the slightest hint of a smile, searching his pretty face. Clearing his throat, he then asks while digging one of the rumpled layers out from under himself to pull over his body, “How old are you, anyways?”

“Thirty-three,” Richard answers—he doesn’t move to get under the sheets like Christoph. Christoph pauses and looks at him with slight repulsion. Richard laughs.

“What? Are you like fifty, or something? Can’t handle a little age gap?”

“I’m forty-two. I just thought you were older, that’s all.”

“Okay. Well. You also never gave me your name.”

Christoph sighs and rolls his gaze up to the ceiling. He presses his lips together, contemplating how honest he should be with this kid. They’re sure as hell not on first-name basis.

“It’s Schneider to you,” he replies, earning a scoff from the younger man.

“Uh, okay.”

Then Christoph’s eyes meet the alarm clock on the nightstand. He freezes. He has to get up in seven hours. Shit. He forgot. He rips the covers off himself and gets up to snag his sleepwear off the floor. Richard sits up, alarmed, and asks, “Where are you going?”

“To bed. I have work in the morning.”

Glancing down at himself, Christoph notices the five scratch marks going down his midsection. He turns to Richard and points at it with an agitated arch of a brow and a sardonic smile. Richard rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like you wear a fucking crop-top suit. Who cares?”

Sighing, Christoph turns away and just ignores him. He steps into his briefs and pyjama pants, before pulling his top back on. Then he begins towards the hotel door. He expected it, but it still irritates him when Richard calls out, “Wait!”

Grinding his teeth, Christoph turns on his heel to look at the other man. He crosses his arms pointedly, arching his brows with thinly pressed lips. He watches Richard open up the nightstand and dig something out; Christoph realizes it’s a notepad and a pen when Richard begins scribbling on it. Christoph sighs. Here we go, of course.

Richard gets out of bed, still very nude, and approaches the other man. He rips off the page and holds it out. Christoph eyes it, and then eyes Richard.

“What makes you think I want to stay in touch?”

“Look, you don’t _have_ to call me. Just take it. If you ever find yourself wanting to pull that sort of thing again, I’ll be up for it,” Richard replies, looking hopeful. Christoph snatches it out of his hand. _Maybe_ he wouldn’t mind having another submissive, later in time. Maybe.

“Fine. Don’t get your hopes up,” Christoph says, becoming impatient as he folds the note twice. Richard smiles. Christoph finds himself staring, thinking it looks cute before he could bat the thought away. Then Richard steps closer and says cheekily while crossing his muscular arms with a grin on his face, “You haven’t kissed me yet.”

“And I won’t. Goodnight,” Christoph says flatly, before turning to the door, yanking it open, and stepping out. He lets it swing shut behind him.

 

Only after he’s pissed, brushed his teeth, and gotten into bed does he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, and realize he actually regrets not kissing the kid (why does he keep thinking of him as _kid_ —he’s thirty-three, for fuck’s sake). He contemplates why he didn’t go along with it. Pride? Why would it even matter? Richard trusted him enough to practice that sort of thing with him, and it may have been his _first time_ , too. Christoph sits up, nervousness seizing his insides. He realizes he fucked up. Everyone needs aftercare, whether it was their first time or not. Even if it was Richard.

Throwing off the covers, Christoph gets up and makes for the door. He pauses when three quiet knocks fill the silence of the hotel room, against the door Christoph stands right before. He doesn’t consider waiting to make it seem like he wasn’t already at the door. He just rips it open to see Richard standing there with a stubborn look on his face, hands in fist by his sides. He’s wearing sweatpants and a simple black shirt. He looks surprised and mildly confused when he realizes Christoph had been on the other side.

“Come in,” Christoph says, stepping aside. Richard looks even more confused, but at least he gets moving before Christoph could become annoyed. He enters; Christoph shuts the door.

“Don’t say anything,” Christoph begins, approaching the other man who watches him warily. Christoph holds up a finger, staring down at him intently, “And I mean it. Don’t say a word. Get on the bed, and under the covers.”

Richard presses his lips together. He nods. He turns and approaches Christoph’s made bed. He crawls on and pulls back the covers on the unused side. He gets underneath them while Christoph makes his way to the other side. He gets on the bed again and pulls his side of the covers over himself. Propped up on an elbow, he glances at Richard and sees him staring with a nervous look on his face. Christoph lifts a hand and beckons him closer with a curl of two fingers. Richard’s nervousness becomes amusement. He grins a little as he scoots closer under the covers.

As much as he’s reluctant to do anything affectionate or tender with this selfish man, he knows how important it is. He doesn’t want to deny him this. He opens his arms; Richard pauses, unsure with a puzzled look on his face (he probably didn’t anticipate this from Christoph, rightfully so), and then moves closer to lay inside them. Christoph closes them around him and pulls him close against himself. Richard rests his cheek against his chest and winds his arm around his side. Their legs tangle. Christoph’s stomach flips. Richard is warm, and soft—his taut muscles seem to be misleading. He’s squishy in places, Christoph realizes, when he squeezes his hand around his side through his shirt. Richard shifts closer and lets out a sigh, deflating against him.

They lay like this silently, motionlessly, for a few minutes. Christoph, feeling exhausted from the combination of his long work day and the intense sex, feels himself beginning to drift off. His eyelids eventually droop, until he lets them roll shut completely. Richard is breathing softly in his arms, his exhales brushing across Christoph’s neck. He’s so comfortable, it’s really making it difficult for him to stay awake…

Although, as if he had sensed his thoughts, Richard moves to sit up. Blearily blinking his eyes open, Christoph looks at him with a furrowed brow. Richard is gazing down at him with a slight smile. He searches in Christoph’s tired eyes and asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Christoph looks at him silently, searching his handsome face, and then nods sleepily. Richard grins, accentuating his dimples. He’s cute. Richard leans in, propping his elbow against the pillows. Christoph closes his eyes again. Richard’s hand is suddenly holding the side of his head, fingers threading in curly locks. Their lips meet firmly, in an intimate press of Richard’s mouth. Christoph angles his head to properly accommodate it.

The sounds of their lips moving together fills in the silence of the hotel room. It’s comforting, in a way. It relaxes Christoph and has him melting back into the pillows; Richard follows. He kisses Christoph gently. It surprises him. Richard seems like the type to consume with no patience. He’s proving him wrong. Maybe he’s just a tender lover.

Their mouths overlap together in a slow, passionate kiss, a kiss that has Richard humming against his lips, a kiss that has Christoph’s face warming. He reaches up with a broad hand to rub his thumb up over Richard’s stubbly cheek, to rest over his ear, his hand curling around the back of his head. Richard grins into the kiss and then gives him a departing peck before pulling back to look at him. Christoph gazes at him tiredly, face unreadable. Richard looks away, reaching down to grasp the blankets. He pulls them higher up over Christoph and gives him a faint smile.

“Get some sleep, old man,” he says quietly, and then moves to lay down beside him, facing him on his side. Christoph doesn’t care if he sleeps here or not, nor that he called him an old man again. He just closes his eyes and gladly accepts that suggestion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christoph realizes he's missing something in his life. Someone he can play with. Someone he can control. Someone who _wants_ to be controlled. Someone who won't bore him. But where could he find someone suitable like that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a lengthy continuation that I couldn't shake out of my head. Also a gift for @fayn3ko!! Thank you. ♡
> 
> Fay drew [this amazing, perfect, beautiful, astonishing, and HOT AF](https://www.deviantart.com/fayneko/art/Schneider-x-Richard-Pussy-AU-783160642) fanart for this part bls go check it out ♡♡♡

“You seem distracted, Christoph. Something on your mind?”

Christoph blinks, refocusing on the sight before him: his fair secretary is sitting with crossed legs on one of the leather chairs positioned in front of his broad desk. She has a manicured hand wielding a pen, the other clutching a note pad. Christoph pans his gaze up along her long legs, dressed up in dark nylon, and then meets her sultry gaze. He shakes his head. Reaching up, he brushes back his curls from his face and sighs, before he leans forward to set his forearms atop the desk, threading his fingers together. He looks at her and says, “It’s nothing. I need a coffee, or something, I suppose. To refocus.”

“Shall I go fetch you one?”

She begins toying with the pen, unfolding her elegant legs to cross them again, earning his eyes. He presses his lips together and meets her gaze. She looks dangerously knowing.

“No,” he says, “Where were we?”

“Should we save this discussion for later?” she asks, “I can tell you’re stressed.”

“Just so I can work on something else that will stress me equally?” Christoph says, arching a brow, “No. This is fine. What did Lindemann say about the merging? Any input? Or shall I run this company by myself?”

“He’s expecting a call from you,” she remarks flippantly, closing her notepad, before she begins to rise from the leather chair. With a calm stride, she approaches his desk, sets the notepad atop it, and looks down at him past the frame of her glasses. Christoph leans back into his chair, gazes up at her with a prompting arch of a brow.

“I’m here if you need me,” she says quietly—she begins to step around the desk with clicks of her heels against the floor. She smiles faintly at him, her glossy lips glistening under the overhead light. She reaches up to brush a few locks behind an ear as she goes on to say, “If you ever need a distraction. A momentary relief of your stress.”

“I am aware,” Christoph murmurs with a slight smirk, amused. Standing before him now, she looks down at him with a pout.

“And you don’t want to take advantage of my offer?”

“I never said no. But you have to make me interested.”

She smiles wider now, eyes becoming lidded and cheeks flushing. She’s beautiful. Christoph watches as she reaches up to begin languidly unbuttoning her blouse.

“That will be easy,” she muses.

 

* * *

 

The next morning at seven, Christoph jolts to consciousness from his disturbing dream and rises into a seated position, his navy blue sheets pooling at his hips. He rakes back his haphazard curls and sighs. Rubbing at his face, he peers over at the alarm clock. Somehow, his body has become awfully skilled at waking him up just before his alarm was to go off.

Sitting there for a minute, Christoph feels strange. His mornings have been different lately. While usually they were filled with dread and anxiety, now they’re just filled with exhaustion and lackluster. He’s losing his energy. Well, he has a long time ago, but he, at least, had the motivation to get through the day. Now he’s just tired, and cranky, and—and lonely. What is he even doing? Every morning, every day, it’s the same. He needs a fucking vacation.

He looks over at the empty side of his bed. In the back of his mind, he knows someone should be there.

He strips off the covers and climbs out of bed.

 

* * *

 

“So, tell me something, Till.”

He’s given an affirmative grunt from the other end of the line. With one broad hand pressing his cellphone to his ear, Christoph lounges back in his office chair, idly poking at his salad with disinterest as he asks boldly, “How do you manage to take so many damn trips to Russia? How are you getting all these weeks off? What is your secret? As far as I’m aware, you have more or less the same responsibilities as I do.”

“I take them with me,” Till gruffly answers, and then pauses, before he adds, “And it’s not like you’re my boss. Who the fuck would tell me ‘no’?”

“You mean besides your assistant?”

“It’s not like I listen to him. I get the job done at home, I get the job done in another country.”

“Right.”

Christoph glumly stabs at a cherry tomato. With it speared, he then spins it around idly, contemplating what to whine about next. Till goes on before he could speak up.

“Your problem, Schneider, is that you don’t allow yourself a break. Why haven’t you gone on a vacation in nine months? Your obsessive workaholic nature? Your inability to pull that stick out of your ass?”

Christoph manages a slight smirk.

“Both?”

“Alright, well, don’t care for once, and then snap on a glove before going in deep to retrieve that stick, because it’s not going anywhere, just like you’re not going anywhere, unless you decide to. Go on a vacation, Schneider. Who gives a shit. The company will still be standing in a week or two. I’ll shoulder the bullshit for a while so you can relax.”

“I’m sure with my absence I’ll be bombarded with calls.”

“I have a solution that will blow your mind: turn off your phone.”

“Why are you trying to get rid of me?” Christoph jokes with a grin, setting his fork down to gesture with that hand, “I make your life easier!”

“I can thank you for all the trips to Russia. How about that. Now, I officially owe you one. Schedule a vacation. Or else I’m bringing this to HR.”

“I would love to see Till Lindemann reporting to HR,” Christoph says wryly. Till huffs and remarks flatly, “Stop trying to change the subject. I’m serious. I can tell you’ve lost your steam.”

The smirk fades from Christoph’s face. He looks down at his pathetically abandoned salad, his curls framing his face, and nods.

“Okay. Fine. I will. You’re right.”

“I recommend out of country. Anyways, do you want to hear about that hooker who tried to rob me last week or not?”

 

* * *

 

For his first day off, Christoph takes Till’s advice and turns off his phone. He then leaves the house to read a book in the nearby park, under the warm sun and the overhanging leaves of a broad tree. He manages to sit at that park bench for an hour—reading and people-watching. He dressed in a pair of jeans and a Henley shirt, joined by sunglasses; an attempt of a disguise. No one would recognize him (although his curls are pretty recognizable, but he refuses to tie it back).

Eventually, he walks to a nearby café, has a tea latte and a baked sweet, watches the cars and people passing by, and then goes home.

At home, he wastes time on his laptop for two hours, watches some TV, and then officially deems himself bored. He contemplates reviewing some notes from a recent meeting to brainstorm, but pointedly decides that, no, he’s on vacation for fuck’s sake. But what is he going to do? He doesn’t like traveling. It makes him feel uneasy. Not for fear of flying, but for lack of familiarity.

He could go out to a bar and find someone to screw, but it’s only 15:00 on a Wednesday. And he’s not interested in any of his usual hook-ups. They all bore him now. Well… When was the last time he jerked off? When was the last time he watched _porn,_ that wasn’t his own?

That could be fun.

He hesitatingly opens his laptop again and pulls up the browser. Fingers on the keys, he debates whether this is something he wants to do. Deciding, fuck it, he goes to a porn website and is immediately smacked in the face with graphic thumbnails of videos. It’s all based on a heterosexual demographic, obviously. Boring. He has heterosexual sex all the time.

He manages to find the tag page and immediately clicks on the “gay” thumbnail. Much better—but apparently, not by much. Too much fisting for his taste. Good God. He grimaces and immediately goes to the search bar to type in “younger man and older man” without really thinking. However, he’s met with either obscenely old men, or results that are unrelated. He’s not going to waste time with this.

He closes the browser, gets up from his desk, and exits his office to enter his bedroom. There, he opens his closet, pushes aside all his shirts and coats, to reveal the safe (more or less) hidden behind them. He punches in the code, and then he’s twisting the handle with a clang of it unlatching. He pulls it open and grabs the small locked box from within. Then he approaches his desk. He sets down the box, reaches underneath the desk and feels around at the corner where the flat top surface met the drawers. There, he finds his taped key. He rips it off, unlocks the box, and opens it to grab the stack of DVDs from within.

He begins flipping through them. Names and dates.

The earliest is from 1994. Now, _that_ video always amuses him, simply because of the video quality. The latest was from eleven months ago. Sad. It’s been a while. He vaguely remembers most of these names—only because he places the name to the body. Not necessarily to the face. He doesn’t remember faces. He remembers bodies, the ways he found himself attracted to them.

He doesn’t have a particular type with women; he likes elegantly skinny, he likes fit, he likes muscular, he likes chubby, he likes soft. For men, he’s more picky. He likes men who are smaller than him. Not necessarily skinny; he’s dominated a few muscular guys. But they’re all fair, all more or less pretty, and all of them are shorter than him. Not too much hair, nor too little hair. He became pickier as time went on.

Organizing all the DVDs back into the box, he decides to take a peek at two specific videos. The footage is more recent, so they wouldn’t be unwatchable, like the videos from his earlier years. Before he really had the money to invest in a good camera. Regardless, he recalls those two men having similar body types to what he’s looking for at the moment.

Seemingly muscular, but noticeably soft and _pliable._ Fair, with light body hair. He knows they won’t meet his current requirements, though. Whatever those may be.

 

He manages to get off, watching himself fuck one of his past conquests. They’re standing, his sub strung up with his wrists tied to the ceiling by a long rope, wearing a bar gag, a blindfold, with a collar jingling around his throat, his face hidden from the camera per his request—perfect for what Christoph is looking for at the moment. Afterwards, he feels entirely and disgustingly pathetic. This must be why he hasn’t jerked off to porn in a long time. It just makes him feel gross. He frowns as he cleans up, before shoving up off his desk chair to approach his bathroom. He needs to shower. Then he’ll figure out what he’s going to do. Originally, he was contemplating visiting family, but that would hardly be considered a vacation, wouldn’t it?

 

After his shower, Christoph reenters his bedroom, ruffling his curls with a towel, and takes a seat on his bed, still rather nude. He towels off his chest and arms and then sits there with the towel in his hands, contemplating what he’s missing. He has no interest in traveling. He has no interest in just sitting here alone. He has no interest in hooking up with the people he usually hooks up with, and he’s not interested in finding anyone new because that takes way too much effort. He wants something fun and new, but without risks. Who is someone he knows that isn’t boring to him, and doesn’t come with risks?

Someone that doesn’t know him at all, but who isn’t a stranger? This might be getting a little too specific, actually. Christoph huffs.

He knows he’s in the mood for men, that’s for sure. Someone younger than he is. And handsome. And maybe inexperienced—being with someone experienced makes it boring. Someone who has an interest in Christoph’s interests. As in, something a little more than vanilla.

When he realizes what he’s subconsciously searching for, he nearly smacks himself in the face out of self-exasperation.

He had just totally wiped the man clean from his mind, for he needs as much of his mind as possible, for more important things. Richard was not important. He didn’t even like him. Though, he liked fucking him, that’s for sure. Hell, he doesn’t even know where Richard lives. That business trip was in another part of Germany. Well, he supposes he’ll have to find out.

…What did he even do with that piece of paper?

 

Eventually, he finds it lost within his desk drawer, submerged amongst other forgotten papers that hold very little importance. Looking at it again, Richard has generously provided him with both his cell and his email. How thoughtful.

 

* * *

 

Considering this may or may not be a delicate matter, based on how he approaches it, he takes his time to write up the email, a proposing email to the man he essentially assaulted months ago now. He sits at his office desk, leaning forward with his elbows set upon its surface, hands folded in front of his face pensively. He stares at his laptop screen, brow furrowed deeply, rereading the letter he’s spent almost an hour writing up now. Every word matters. He doesn’t want to send the wrong signals, or plant unintentional ideas in the kid’s head. Just based on their one and only “session”, Christoph can easily tell Richard is the type to get ahead of himself and let his expectations run free. He’s very impressionable, and pliable, and quite naïve.

“ _Richard_ ,” the letter begins plainly, “ _It’s unknown to me whether your interest has lingered even after all this time, though I suppose I’ll only know by proposing you with an offer. Has that desire to be torn into pieces faded? Do you want to be rebuilt again, by my hands? Would you like to be stripped down to the barest foundation of you, and then stitched together in a form of rebirth? I know you need someone to tie that feral spirit down, in whatever way. You need control. You need to be controlled. I can give you that control. I can tie down that untamed part of you. You can belong to me, and I’ll give you whatever you need. Consider this proposition seriously, and then get back to me. Silence equates declination._ ”

This is followed by his typical signature via email, though he removes his first name, because Richard doesn’t need that particular information just yet.

Straight to the point, without any sugar-coating. At the arm’s length of a dom establishing boundaries. He’s too damn good at this, sometimes. He smirks to himself as he sends the email, after rereading it thrice more.

 

* * *

 

Two days later, he’s given a reply. He’s alerted to this by a notification on his phone, during a (rather unimportant) meeting with his subordinates. He uses it as a reason to excuse himself early. He throws them an off-hand “we’ll discuss this further soon” before leaving the conference room. Something alike to anxiety and anticipation curls in his chest as he strides straight towards the elevators, avoiding eye contact as he passes businessmen and businesswomen who many just need to interrupt him for the most insignificant thing.

In the elevator, he has to restrain himself from checking it. He makes for his office as soon as he reaches his floor.

Once in the privacy of his room, he locks the door, takes a quick seat at his desk, and pulls open his personal laptop. He unlocks it, and immediately goes to his inbox. He hesitates for one mere moment, cursor positioned over the email, and then clicks it open.

He reads it quickly.

“ _I never thought I’d hear from you_ ,” it begins—no introductive opening, of course, but Christoph should have expected it. Richard has no manners. He continues reading.

“ _I was beginning to think you trashed that note I gave you. I’m relieved to hear that isn’t the case! I don’t even know what to say_ ,” Christoph pauses, huffs, and rolls his eyes (Richard is rather unimaginative) and then goes on to read, “ _But I do know that that interest is definitely still there. I was waiting for this._ ”

Christoph winces. Painfully honest. But it’s a vulnerability. He’s such sub material, it almost has him shaking his head.

“ _I want to meet up with you, if that’s what you’re proposing. I want you to have that control. I live in New York. Tell me where to be, and I’ll be there. I’ll buy a ticket. I’ll pay for the room._ ”

Wow. Christoph didn’t think he had him _that_ hooked. Secondly, he lives in _New York?_ He stares at the email, a little speechless. Richard didn’t seem like the type to dwell. He supposes he didn’t see through him entirely. And why was he even at that hotel in Saxony when he lives in America? The email ends with a simply written: “ _I look forward to your response. Please don’t hesitate to text or call me. Willing to be yours, Richard._ ”

Christoph lets out a rushed exhale and reaches up to scratch idly, thoughtfully, at his developing stubble. Well, he won’t text him yet. He’ll see how this pans out first. He brings his hands to the keyboard, poised to write, and considers what to say.

 

* * *

 

Christoph emphasizing on his limited time encouraged Richard to buy a plane ticket the next day, as said man confessed through a following email. He’s to be here in two days. Christoph is angry he didn’t consult with him first before buying the ticket (he needs more time to prepare!), but in the end it’s fine this way. The sooner, the better. Christoph is tired of the utter boredom.

For the remainder of his time, he cleans and organizes his home, digs out his BDSM tools and sex toys, cleans them all, and generally prepares for their first true session. Their previous sex was a bit in the gray area, since consent and discussion of limitations weren’t exchanged well enough.

Somehow, it has yet to settle in his mind that he arranged this with the man he hated when he first met him. That he _wants_ him to come here, to his home. Richard just seemed to be what he’s looking for. It’s been a while since Christoph found something so fun to play with. Richard has no idea what will come, no idea what Christoph has in store for him.

At night, Christoph sits at his desk, writing up a list of ideas, of scenarios, of ways to torture Richard, of ways to subject him to the bittersweet pleasure that Christoph always grants his subs. He brainstorms how he’ll establish their relationship, where this will go, how long it’ll last, how he strives for this to develop. He doesn’t want love involved. And it will not be, from his end. Just the base desire to control, to be controlled, to dominate, to be dominated. Sex in it’s most therapeutic, and equally agonizing, form.

 

* * *

 

On the day of, Christoph drives to the airport, arriving twenty minutes before Richard’s expected arrival. He sits in his car for a while, contemplating this point of no return. Whether this is truly something he wants to follow through with. There is no real risk here. Richard has no ties to his professional life. He knows nothing about him. There could be no ruin here, nothing to jeopardize. There is only gain. Christoph wants this. He has wanted a suitable submissive to his ruthless desire to dominate ever since his last. Fresh meat thrown into the cage of BDSM—and especially sex with a man in general. Richard must be scared, but he must also anticipate, considering he paid for a ticket to Germany. He must have greatly enjoyed their experience in the hotel. The release he felt. The different nature of the exchange, of the sex. Christoph likes making his subs feel good in that sense. He enjoys giving them different perspectives. Giving them an outlet for various frustrations, refreshing freedom from built up emotions that need to be exhumed somehow. He knows he’ll have fun with this.

When he steps out of the car, dressed in the suit he wore to work that morning, there’s a slight smile on his face. He’s optimistic.

In the airport, he stands against a wall with the baggage claim in view, which lists Richard’s flight number. He has his hands in the pockets of his slacks, watching the crowd with subdued anticipation. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knows he’s excited.

For ten minutes he waits, wondering how their initial exchange is going to go. If Richard will be as rude and brash, or if he’s managed to teach him some manners. That would be rather amusing. He imagines it’ll be a kinder exchange. Not with anger and violence. He doesn’t necessarily _like_ the kid, but he doesn’t hate him anymore, at the very least.

Finally, he sees him emerge from the swarm of arriving people, a backpack hooked on a shoulder, pulling along a black carry-on. Panning his gaze up across the length of him, Christoph takes notice of his [teal blue leather jacket](https://66.media.tumblr.com/cccef506fb0db54246dad1fc178dd93f/tumblr_pivmdtFP8c1rvajymo2_400.jpg), joined by a casual black button-up shirt underneath. He’s wearing jeans and boots. He looks good. Christoph is surprised to see his hair is [combed over attractively](https://66.media.tumblr.com/cf65206212763e358f617e2ebaff3582/tumblr_pivmdtFP8c1rvajymo1_500.jpg) with gel, rather than styled to stick out in every direction like a wannabe punk. He’s momentarily stunned by how handsome he is. How come he didn’t look like _this_ when they screwed? Christoph stares, hidden from where he stands, before deciding he may as well go grab him before he gets lost.

Straightening from the wall, Christoph begins towards him. Richard is pulling out his phone with a furrowed brow—obviously checking for texts. Christoph manages to approach him without being detected until he nearly comes to a stop before him. Richard glances up, and then freezes. He looks surprised, and then a grin appears on his face, bringing out his dimples and showing teeth.

“There you are,” he says with a laugh. Christoph clears his throat and manages a slightly strained smile. He suddenly feels out of place. He’s unsure how to act around him.

“As promised,” he replies, and then checks his watch just as a way to tear his gaze away from Richard’s beaming face. “We should get going. You hungry?”

He glances up at him as he adjusts his cuff and then loosely crosses his arms without quite realizing he is—a defensive gesture. Richard blinks. Then he shrugs.

“I could eat.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

Richard looks surprised, again.

“Are we going out somewhere?”

“Yes. We need to talk before I consider bringing you home.”

“I—Right. Um. I guess just take me wherever. You’re the one that lives here. Do you have a favorite place to eat?”

This is painful. Christoph just looks at him blankly, and then sighs.

“Follow me,” he commands, and then turns to begin towards the exit of the airport. He hears Richard following along with the noisy rolling of his carry-on.

The walk to his car is quiet and tense. Christoph remains impassive as he unlocks the car. He joins Richard’s side and reaches out to calmly take his suitcase from him. Their fingers brush and it’s like a jolt up Christoph’s spine—he ignores it, opting to turn away to hide his face. All at once, he’s suddenly hit with the fact that this is really happening; he brought Richard here to specifically engage in a dominant/submissive relationship with him. Or something like that. That little touch was like a lick of fire. He lets out a breath and regathers his composure.

“No, I can do it,” Richard insists, flustered, but Christoph just ignores him as he rounds the car to get the trunk open. He sets his suitcase within and then slams it shut. He looks at Richard past his long curls, sees the frustrated look on his face. Christoph clears his throat. He needs to mend this atmosphere.

“It’s alright,” Christoph says while stepping closer to him, earning a glance from emerald eyes, “Don’t worry about anything. I’m going to drive you someplace to eat. We’re going to sit down and talk. I need to know you beyond just that night we had. And you need to know me. This is just the beginning. It almost always starts out rocky.”

Richard seems to relax. Christoph sees his shoulders drop, his tense expression opening to something more welcoming. He nods, manages the slightest smile. Christoph reaches out to rest his hand on Richard’s bicep; he squeezes him there firmly through his leather jacket.

 

At Christoph’s place of choice, there’s a wine red tablecloth, utensils rolled in matching cloth napkins, and a basket of honey wheat bread. Richard is a little underdressed, but Christoph doesn’t care about appearances, and he’s well-aware that Richard doesn’t either. They’re near the back, partially hidden by some of the restaurant’s decorative plants. It’s perfect.

Richard is really indulging in the water that the waitress had given them along with the woven basket of bread. He’s practically chugging it. Christoph is watching him with a slight, amused smile on his lips. Those pretty green eyes are roaming along the elaborate interior of the restaurant, soaking in the atmosphere and surroundings that are quite different from the New York perspective. He had been the same on the drive here.

When those eyes land on him, Richard stops slurping at his water and sets the glass back down with obvious embarrassment. Christoph’s smile grows slightly.

“Let me ask you something,” he says. Richard blinks. He nods, bringing his hands up to fold them casually atop the tablecloth. Christoph searches his handsome face, pleased to find very little tension in it.

“Have you ever been with a man before?”

Richard’s eyebrows meet his hairline. Christoph already knows the answer to this, but he’d like to hear it in his words. Richard looks a little flustered; he glances around, nervous of any nearby eavesdroppers. Christoph waits patiently. He decides he may as well put the other man at ease by acting casual himself—he reaches out to calmly pull the basket of bread closer to himself, grabbing a slice, as well as the offered bowl of butter. He begins to lather it across the bread with a butter knife as Richard clears his throat and speaks quietly.

“No. You were the first time. But I—I’ve wanted to. For a while. I just—didn’t know… How to really… Reach out.”

Christoph nods. He flicks his gaze up to meet Richard’s as he presumes in a lowered voice (for Richard’s sake of comfort), “You mean you didn’t know how to hook up with a man. You’re familiar with women.”

Richard nods. Then he licks his lips and smiles a little, as if he were amused. Christoph sets the knife down and brings the bread to his mouth. Richard speaks up again.

“I’d say you pulling me over your lap and sp-spanking me really helped the process.”

Christoph nearly chokes mid-bite. He sets down the bread and swallows thickly, and then looks up at Richard with a furrowed brow. Richard is grinning now.

“What? You know it was a pretty effective way to initiate it!”

“It was induced by rage,” Christoph says calmly, reaching for his glass of water, “We didn’t exactly have the same thing in mind.”

Richard’s grin disappears.

“Yeah, about that,” he begins, removing his arms from the tabletop to cross them, “That was pretty fucked up. Just saying. No hard feelings, but damn. Who just goes and spanks some stranger they’ve got beef with? Not sure I would approach it the same way.”

Christoph flushes in the face a bit. Yeah, he’s still a little sore about how spontaneous he’d been.

“I determined what to do after seeing how much of a brat you were,” he muses quietly, bringing his water to his mouth with his sharp eyes trained on Richard’s, “Spanking became the most obvious solution.”

Richard rolls his eyes and looks away. He’s pouting. Cute. Christoph smirks around the rim of the glass before he takes a drink.

“Now,” he begins, setting it down again, earning a glance from vaguely annoyed eyes. He reaches out to tap Richard’s menu.

“Look at the menu and figure out what you want. I don’t care what you get. I’ll cover it.”

The affirmative little nod he’s given and the way Richard coyly reaches for the menu has an insignificant surge of satisfaction blooming in Christoph’s chest. He’s such a sucker for this sort of thing. He smiles to himself, almost unnoticeably so, as he opens up his own menu.

 

Soon after, their waitress returns, takes their orders, and departs. Richard speaks up almost immediately, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, propping his cheek in a hand.

“So, what do you even do, Schneider? I know you wear your fancy suits and carry around a briefcase or whatever, but I have yet to figure out where you work.”

“I work as a co-president to a major law firm,” Christoph answers calmly—he’s already decided how much information he’ll give the other man, and that will suffice. “You needn’t know which one.”

Richard nods.

“So you’re a busy man.”

“Typically.”

“About time you took a vacation, then. Were you in Dresden for a business matter?”

Christoph smiles thinly. He nods, leans back into his seat with his arms crossing loosely.

“Yes. It was a conference.”

“Hm.”

Christoph takes the opportunity to ask what has been piquing his curiosity.

“What were _you_ doing in Dresden? You live in New York.”

Richard nods. He scratches at his wrist and shrugs.

“I was there for a handful of photoshoots.”

He doesn’t look terribly confident with this statement. He stares at the bread basket and presses his lips together. Christoph arches a brow.

“For what, exactly?”

Richard meets his curious gaze and smiles thinly.

“Dolce & Gabbana.”

Christoph pauses and tilts his head.

“Like the fashion line.”

Richard shrugs. He’s fiddling nervously with the tablecloth.

“Yeah.”

“Why were you reluctant about telling me this? That’s amazing. You model for Dolce & Gabbana?”

Richard blushes. He nods. Christoph smiles.

“It’s very fitting of you. I can see why you would be a model. You’re handsome. You have very sharp, aesthetically pleasing features. And, well, I suppose I can say your body is just as beautiful.”

Richard laughs. Christoph’s smile fades. Maybe he said the wrong thing. Richard looks at him fondly with kind eyes and muses, “Not what I expected to hear. I thought you would tease me for it.”

“No,” Christoph insists, reaching up to subconsciously brush his curls behind an ear, “No, not at all. I honestly expected less.”

“Oh, ouch! Schneider, it’s like you think I’m just lowlife scum!” Richard feigns clutching at his chest, making a pained expression. Christoph grins a little, amused himself now.

“Well, you just seemed to be the type when I met you.”

Richard lowers his hands to the table and sighs. He begins fidgeting with the tablecloth again as he nods.

“I was just dealing with some shit at the time. I was there for a photoshoot, but it—it wasn’t like I was having a grand time, y’know? I was just. Struggling. Over some things.”

Crossing into territory they probably shouldn’t attempt to traverse yet. Christoph nods, understanding. He doesn’t press further. He assumes that’s why Richard reached out for him like that. Why he wanted him to “tear him apart”. He was especially vulnerable, bearing a certain kind of suffering that must have been building up. Maybe Christoph was meant to be there for him, in a silly fate kind of way. With the most unorthodox methods.

“So, anyways,” Richard begins with a wave of a hand, regaining Christoph’s full attention. He looks at Christoph with a slight smile as he asks, “So what do you do aside from work? Like, a hobby, or something? I hope work is not all you do. Because that would be sad.”

Christoph winces slightly. That is pretty much all he does now… But—

“This,” Christoph says. He runs his fingers back through his curls and then leans forward to say with a raise of a brow, “This was my recreational interest. When I didn’t work, I typically spent time with my sexual partner.”

Richard looks slightly confused.

Christoph further elaborates.

“I don’t play an instrument. I’m not artistically inclined. I don’t… Waste time on anything like that. I would plan sessions with my partner at the time. I would research. I would practice. I would record—we would record, and I would study it to reflect on what I did or didn’t do, what has to be changed, what needs to be added to further enrich the experience. You understand? This is what I would spend my time doing.”

He leans back into his chair and crosses his arms, looks up at the softly-lit lamp that hangs above them.

“But I dumped my last submissive. That relationship grew boring to me. And ever since, I just focused on work. It’s been nearly a year since I last committed to someone.”

Richard is watching him with a knit brow and searching eyes, seemingly trying to grasp what he’s saying. It doesn’t seem like he’s wrapping his head around it, considering he’s looking a little lost. Christoph smiles. He’s such a newbie, it’s endearing.

“It is time-consuming,” he says with finality, “Aside from that, I read to pass the hours.”

“Is this why you emailed me?” Richard asks firmly, his green eyes hardening and searching in Christoph’s, “Because you got _bored?_ Wanted to find someone to screw around with? Glad I could be here to keep you entertained.”

“Yes,” Christoph answers honestly, “But I could’ve effortlessly found another person. It’s not hard for me. I have a reputation. But I… Well. I specifically wanted to do this with _you._ Perhaps it is selfish, but you chose to come, didn’t you?”

That has Richard making a flustered face. He suddenly finds the cuff of his jacket terribly interesting; he nods a little. Christoph smirks just as the waitress approaches. She announces their entrees as she sets them down: “Filet mignon with the balsamic glaze.”

She places the plate before Richard and then turns to Christoph, “And the fennel citrus salad.”

“Thank you,” Christoph says politely, earning a nod from the waitress. Richard thanks her as well, quietly, and then she departs again. Christoph watches him for a moment; Richard immediately grabs his utensils to unroll them from the napkin, and eyes his steak to determine where to attack first. Christoph already spots multiple flaws in this. Normally, he would instruct him to fix his posture, put his napkin on his lap, and remove his jacket, but he knows Richard would take it defensively; like Christoph was only scolding him as a parent would. They still need to discuss the dynamic of this budding “relationship”. Christoph can do all of that later. It’s all just part of the fun of being in control.

They dine in silence for a couple minutes—Richard is entirely focused on his steak, like he’s trying to find a reason to keep his eyes off of Christoph. Meanwhile, Christoph cannot stop watching him. He follows the movement of his hands, sweeps his gaze across his jaw as it clenches while he chews, down across the flexing tendons of his neck, to settle on his partially-unbuttoned black top that shows a peek of muscular chest and a bit of hair.

A prodding thought in the back of his head teases him with the idea of taking Richard into the bathrooms and forcing him to his knees. Christoph smiles to himself as he refocuses on his own food.

Eventually, Richard sets down his utensils to take his water glass in hand. He briefly drinks, and then begins to rub his fingers along the condensation as he speaks, earning a glance from Christoph.

“So… I still have no idea what you had in mind. You mentioned some… Vague stuff, but nothing concrete. Like… Are we just going to fuck? Similar to how we did before?”

He peeks up at him. Christoph takes his napkin in hand and wipes off his mouth before leaning back in his chair, contemplating how to answer this question.

“We are,” he says, meeting his gaze, “We can. But it won’t be only that. It can be whatever you want it to be. It can be more than you would expect. I want to show you so much more than I did in Dresden. That was just… A mess. It was sloppy, and amateur, the way we fucked. It can be better than that. It will be. I can transform sex in so many different ways, ways that you wouldn’t understand until you experienced it yourself. So you will need to put a lot of trust in me. In this. You need to understand that it’ll exceed your expectations, your comfort.”

He pauses, searches Richard’s enthralled, and vaguely concerned, expression before he leans forward, setting his elbows upon the table, and speaks lowly to him while maintaining intense eye contact, “You deserve more. I will show you more. I know you’ll enjoy it. I don’t want you to think there are limitations. Because there aren’t, unless you want there to be. If you agree to this, to the idea of proceeding, then I’ll take you home and we’ll discuss it further there.”

“I have one condition,” Richard says with a twitching smile appearing on his face. He leans forward, closer to the other man who looks at him with amused interest. Richard searches in his pale blue eyes as he whispers, “I came here to fuck you. So that’s what we’re going to do, whether we ‘proceed’ with _this_ or not.”

Christoph laughs quietly and looks at the other man with a grin and a peek of crow’s feet.

“You’re so funny sometimes, kid. Yeah, sure, I can promise you that.”

 

* * *

 

The drive to Christoph’s home is silent, thick with a certain tension. Richard has his elbow propped on the car door, running his fingers through his gelled hair. Christoph glances at him occasionally, wondering what’s going through his head. Thankfully, his place isn’t far. Soon enough, they pull into his driveway.

At the front door, Christoph pulls out his keys while Richard stands beside him, hands in the pockets of his jacket, his gaze roaming across the exterior of Christoph’s home, intrigued about this part of his personal life he’s never been exposed to before. Christoph soon gets the door unlocked and pushed open. Richard follows in after him. Flipping on the entryway light, Christoph glances at Richard and says, “Take a seat on the couch. I’ll join you soon.”

Richard nods. Christoph removes his shoes; Richard does the same. Richard watches the other man enter the hallway to disappear into his bedroom. Christoph begins to briskly change into something more comfortable; a casual button-up and a pair of jeans. He fixes his hair, enters the adjoined bathroom to brush his teeth, and then decides to just throw on some cologne. May as well give Richard time to reflect.

Reentering the living room, he sees said man sitting on the couch as instructed, now lacking his leather jacket. It’s draped over the armrest. He’s leaning forward to rest his forearms upon his knees, hands linked. He glances up at Christoph’s return.

“I’m going to give you a list,” Christoph speaks up, rounding the couch to take a seat beside him. Richard sits back. He watches the older man with a slight, confused tilt to his head. Christoph had already planned for this arrangement; he grabs the folder he previously set upon the coffee table and flips it open to slip out one of the pages held within. He sets it down before Richard and meets his bewildered gaze as he says firmly, “It’s a list of all of the different ways we can practice BDSM. Different elements, different tools. I want you to take a look at it, and if any of it sounds appealing to you, then I need a definitive answer whether this is something you want to do or not. If you’re unsure, then we can just limit it to something you’re comfortable with.”

“Like, what?” Richard begins quietly, eying the list reluctantly, “Just normal fucking? I doubt that’s what you want.”

He meets Christoph’s gaze and arches a brow. Christoph smiles a little and shrugs.

“It’s not about what I want. But yes. I want to try the majority of this list with you. If you choose to keep it vanilla, this will not last long. I will get bored. That’s just how I am—not to suggest I wouldn’t enjoy having sex with you. But after a while, I’ll lose interest.”

“I get it,” Richard says quietly, and then takes the list in hand. He begins to read it, skimming the words, the brief descriptions, with his brow furrowing deeper and deeper. Christoph watches him with a slight, amused smile.

“If you decide you’d like to try this, I need to you to review the list more thoroughly and indicate which you want to try, the ones you wouldn’t _mind_ exploring, and the others you have no interest in. It’s important for me to determine what is within your comfort limits, and what I should avoid. I can’t just ask you because you have no experience, so this is the best method. We can eventually work down the list and see what you enjoy most, what you would like to avoid for the future.”

“Well, I already know I do,” Richard begins, setting down the list and looking at Christoph boldly with a firmly pressed smile, “That’s why I came. I knew I wanted to try more with you. I just wasn’t sure of the specifics. So I—I guess I’ll just go through the list? Because, yeah, I would like to be… Whatever it is I’m supposed to be.”

“My submissive.”

“Uh, sure. Okay.”

“Do you want me to fix you a drink while you look through it?” Christoph asks as he moves to stand from the couch. Richard looks up at him, blinks, and then smiles a little.

“Yeah. Rum and pineapple juice, if you got it.”

Christoph nods. He then enters the kitchen and goes about fixing them some drinks.

 

It takes nearly two hours to go through the three pages. Richard has endless questions, and Christoph has plentiful answers. Richard often asks about his personal experiences with this kink, or that scenario, and Christoph is happy to provide them. Many times, Richard needs further explanation for certain things, beyond what Christoph already typed up on the spreadsheet, which also takes more time. Often, Richard even questions the kink itself, how it could possibly be sexually appealing, but then Christoph would expand on it and explain in a more detailed outlook—it’s not only the act itself, but how it’s done, where it’s performed, by whom, and in what way.

“This feels like we’re discussing a business contract,” Richard mumbles to himself when Christoph collects the list once it’s read through. Christoph snorts and looks over at the other man with an amused smile. Richard brings his third glass of rum to his lips and takes a drink, tiredly.

“Funny you should mention that,” Christoph begins. He reaches back into the folder and produces another sheet of paper; he sets it before the other man. Richard lethargically picks it up and begins to read it.

“You’re shitting me,” he says flatly as he pans his gaze over to the other man, his eyebrow raised and lips in a line. Christoph looks at him with a wry smile.

“I want to document our sessions,” he begins, “I do it with every submissive of mine, if they are willing. As in, I would like to record us.”

He watches Richard intently, his amused smile gone, his blue eyes serious. Richard looks back down at the paper in his hands and remains thoughtfully silent. Christoph goes on, folding his hands together, “The contract is a way to assure you I have no ill intention with that footage. If I dared to do anything with the footage, this basically states you have the right to respond with legal measures. Though it wouldn’t come to that. This is merely a promise in the written form that gives you more leverage.”

Richard nods a little. He reads over the page silently for a minute, and then looks up to meet Christoph’s gaze. He has a slight smile on his face.

“Where’s the pen? I suppose I should just sign it with my blood?”

Christoph laughs.

“It’s not quite that serious. I’m not the devil you’re about to make a deal with.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Again, Christoph snorts and then eyes Richard with a mock disapproving look. Richard grins, his pretty green eyes lighting up. Christoph is tempted to touch him in an affectionate way, drawn in by that handsome smile, but withholds the urge. Instead, he reaches down to pull open the drawer of the coffee table. He grabs one of the many pens from within and passes it to Richard, who takes it silently with a nod. He then leans in towards the paper, intently focusing as if he were about to sign something of incredible importance. He writes his signature and then sets the pen down atop it. He slides the “contract” over to Christoph and meets his gaze. He smiles again, green eyes bearing both eagerness and subtle impatience.

“Can we screw now, or shall I sign a form of consent for that, too?”

 

In Christoph’s bedroom, once the door is shut, Richard immediately reaches out for him, but Christoph snatches his wrists before he could touch him. Richard frowns. Christoph can tell he’s getting tired of the wait, but there is still something to be asked.

“How did you want to do this?” he says quietly, searching in his irritated eyes, “How it was done before, or something different?”

Richard’s exasperation fades; replacing it is shy apprehension. He lowers his hands. Christoph releases his wrists. Richard licks his lips and lets out a breath. He looks away to the side—he’s _blushing._

“I-I want it to be different,” he mutters, “Nothing rough. Just—You were my first time with a man, and I want a do-over.”

Christoph nods. He was thinking the same thing. He steps closer, earning a quick glance from him. Christoph’s face remains stoic, his brow slightly furrowed and curls shrouding his face. He reaches up to gently cup Richard’s face with broad, warm hands. Richard looks up at him with wider eyes and an open mouth. Christoph doesn’t kiss him. He just holds him, fingers in his gelled hair, thumbs resting over his cheeks.

“I want you to let me do everything,” he says quietly, searching in his eager eyes, “Don’t worry about performing. Don’t try and enforce those roles you put yourself in when you’re with a woman.”

Richard blinks, and then looks a little awed. He swallows hard and then whispers, “Okay.”

Christoph doesn’t kiss him on the mouth. He leans in to press his lips between his eyebrows—the most intimate exchange he’s probably ever shared with him. It’s strange. Christoph is a little amazed that they’ve progressed even this far. Richard has been shockingly agreeable. He’s changed since their last meeting. He knows it.

“Get on the bed, and lay back,” he commands calmly. Richard nods into his hands, looks up at him past his eyelashes with a slight smile on his lips. Christoph removes his hands from his face; Richard turns to approach Christoph’s king-sized bed and crawls on. Christoph follows, but steps past the bed to switch on one lamp. Then he returns to the bedroom door to turn off the light. The room is dark, bathed in a soft glow from the nightstand lamp. It immediately creates a more intimate atmosphere. Richard is leaning back on his elbows atop the bed, watching Christoph with blatant anticipation on his face.

Christoph approaches the bed and climbs on to move over him. Richard sucks in an audible breath and looks up at him with widened eyes. Christoph brushes Richard’s disheveling bangs back, and then runs his fingers through his dark, gelled hair to hold the back of his head. Richard is completely enthralled. He watches the other man unwaveringly, breath caught. Christoph leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth; Richard makes a slight noise. He then begins to kiss over his neck. Richard tilts his head to welcome it.

Gently, Christoph knees apart his legs and then brings one hand up to begin unbuttoning Richard’s shirt, balancing his weight on his elbow. He hears Richard’s quickened breathing—his excitement is vibrating throughout him like a turbulent current, uncontrolled and restless. Christoph is pleased to find him so eager. Richard’s chest is already beginning to heave as he gets his shirt open.

Leaning in, curls resting across his exposed skin, Christoph begins to kiss across his chest gently, feeling the soft touch of his chest hair. Further and further down he kisses, over his midsection and clenched belly, across abs and a light layer of belly hair.

“Scoot further back,” Christoph commands quietly; Richard immediately moves to obey. He crawls back to rest his head upon the pillows. Christoph follows. He kneels over his legs and reaches down to undo his black pants. He peeks up at his face. Richard is watching with hooded eyes and an open mouth. Christoph begins to ease down his pants; Richard raises his hips. Getting them off his legs, followed by his socks, Christoph is left with the sight of Richard wearing only his briefs, his black shirt hanging off his shoulders. He’s blushing. Christoph can tell he’s already hard.

He roams his hands up along Richard’s muscular thighs, squeezes them appreciatively, and then speaks lowly, saying with a slight smile, “You are so eager. So hard for me, already. You’re cute.”

“Ugh, God, shut up,” Richard groans, dropping back down into the pillows and pressing a hand to his red face. Christoph laughs and strokes his hands up over Richard’s sides, tracing the V made by his hips that disappears beyond the waistband of his briefs. He leans in, resting on his side next to Richard, and kisses his belly, and then his chest. He gingerly runs his fingers up over his abs, and then down again to tease at his stiff cock, kept restrained by his briefs. Richard’s thighs and belly clench. The lightest touch gains such a great reaction. Christoph is going to have such fun.

He slowly closes his hand around him, squeezes until Richard grunts and fidgets his hips. Christoph manages to simply rest his hand over his hard-on through his underwear, kissing over his chest, biting gently at his nipples, until Richard huffs and pleads quietly, “Schneider, stop teasing me… Just touch me already.”

“But I am touching you,” Christoph murmurs against his skin. Richard groans with impatience, though he doesn’t say anything more. He subtly arches up into his hand, shaking just slightly under his touch. Christoph decides he’ll give him what he wants; he can lengthen the torture later in time, when it’s more appropriate. He curls his fingers into the waistband of his briefs and pulls them down to his knees. Richard groans. Christoph hasn’t even touched him yet. Christoph smiles against his skin. He’s so vulnerable and desperate. It’s perfect.

When he teases his fingertips along the inside of his thigh, Richard spreads his legs open as much as his briefs will allow and huffs. Christoph lets his fingers trail up along his thigh. He kisses him once more on the chest and then rises up onto an elbow to watch his face past the curtain of his curls. Richard looks up at him with pleading eyes and an open mouth.

“You don’t even realize how desperate you are,” Christoph murmurs, smiling slightly, eyes hooded with both lust and amusement, “I could take my time, you know. I could keep you suspended forever.”

“Please, just touch me,” Richard pleads, bringing his hand up to hide his eyes again. He pauses, swallows hard, and then opens his mouth as if to say more, though he produces nothing but a ragged exhale. Christoph hums with encouragement. He cups his fingers gently around his shaven balls, squeezes just slightly. Richard moans. Then he sputters out shakily, “I want you so badly. Just, hurry. I can’t wait anymore. Fuck.”

“We don’t need to rush,” Christoph says calmly, gripping his balls tightly—it’s a possessive hold, one that’s meant to satisfy himself more than Richard. Richard begs, but he doesn’t move to take control, he just waits. It’s alarmingly fitting. Richard is a quick learner, it seems.

“You fucker,” Richard groans, arching his hips up into his hold. Maybe not that quick. Christoph smiles to himself in the dim light. He releases his balls to stroke his broad fingers over them, before letting his hand trail upwards; he runs the length of his fingers and palm across the stiff underside of his cock. Richard makes a choked noise and pushes up into it. Christoph lets him. He turns his wrist and trails his warm fingertips up over the swell of his balls and then across his shaft, again.

Richard brings an arm up to drape it across his face. He’s shaking now, more intensely. Christoph just watches him, pleased. This is perhaps the polar opposite to their previous sex. Slow, intimate, torturously gentle, versus the rushed, violent, greedy fucking they shared before. Christoph is sure Richard is beginning to regret asking for something different.

A low, frustrated hum comes from the other man. Richard arches up into his hand again and lets out a loud huff. Christoph finally relents. He doesn’t want to frustrate him to an irritable degree. He curls his fingers around his cock. He rubs his thumb across the head; it’s dripping thickly with pre-cum. Richard moans, drops his arm from over his face to watch with eager eyes.

With the slickness of his pre-cum, Christoph begins to stroke at him. Richard groans and flicks his gaze up to meet Christoph’s.

“Feel good?” Christoph asks quietly, arching a brow, “I’m doing what you wanted.”

Richard nods and closes his eyes, mouth opening. Christoph is pleased he managed to make a simple handjob feel thrice as good, simply from the anticipation. He finds handjobs boring when it actually reaches that point, though. Instead, he lets go. Richard growls. He looks at Christoph with impatient betrayal.

“Grab a condom from the nightstand,” Christoph instructs, ignoring his greedy behavior. Richard blinks. That seems to bring back his enthusiasm. He nods and turns over to reach for the nightstand. Christoph admires his ass. While he digs out a condom, Christoph goes about pulling his briefs off his legs entirely.

Once he finds one, Richard rests back and hands it to him.

“Take off your shirt,” Christoph says, while he rips open the condom. Richard obeys; he sits up and strips it off to thrust it onto the floor. Christoph sweeps his gaze across his naked body. He’s muscular, pale, and his skin is quite nice. An odd thing to notice, but noticed regardless. Reaching out, Christoph roams a hand up from his thigh, over his abs, to squeeze his side. And he’s still soft and pliable, despite the toned muscle. Richard bites his lip. Christoph is getting distracted; he refocuses on taking out the condom and slipping it on Richard.

“While I suck you off,” Christoph begins lowly, flicking his gaze up to meet Richard’s, “Don’t move. If you try thrusting into my mouth, I’ll simply stop. Understand?”

Richard seems to be withholding his excitement. He bites his lip, restraining a grin, and nods, eyes wide. Christoph searches his face and then moves to adjust himself. He rests partially over Richard’s legs, leaning in to kiss his hip. Richard is panting again, with an impatient eagerness. He’s so responsive. Christoph grips his cock, angles it up, and ducks his head to take it into his mouth. Richard gasps sharply. He probably anticipated more teasing.

A hand immediately grabs onto his curls. Christoph keeps one hand on his thigh, the other slipping in-between them to grip his balls. He holds them tightly, bordering on painful, and begins to suck him off with hollowed cheeks and closed eyes. Richard moans and gasps his name. Christoph hasn’t done this in a long time. It’s turning him on. He’s hard in his jeans now, simply blowing the younger man. It’s so satisfying, giving his partner pleasure in this way.

Richard is moaning and panting, his fingers threading shakily through his disheveled curls. Christoph pauses to suck firmly at the head of his cock, brow furrowing, and then pulls off slowly, breaking suction. Richard groans again.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Christoph asks lowly, a little breathlessly. He rubs his fingers over Richard’s balls, roams his hand across the inside of his thigh. Richard drops his head back against the pillows and growls out a roughly spoken, “ _Yes.”_

“Stay still,” Christoph commands, giving a final squeeze to his thigh, and then rises. Richard watches as the other man rounds the bed, and kneels. He pulls out the silver case from underneath and unlatches it to open it. Unable to contain his curiosity, Richard scoots closer to the edge of the bed and peeks over to look. He sees sex toys, in their own dedicated grooves in the protective foam of the case, as well as a bottle of lube. Christoph pulls out the lubricant and snaps the case shut again.

“Uh, I don’t know about you, but I find it easier to just, y’know, throw it in a drawer by the bed, or something,” Richard says flatly, furrowing his brow, “This seems unnecessary.”

“I thought I told you not to move,” Christoph says firmly, looking up at him with a hard eye. Richard huffs. He petulantly flops back against the pillows and crosses his arms. Christoph sets the lube on the side table, nudges the case back under the bed with his foot, and then begins to unbutton his shirt. Richard looks over, watches with intrigue as the other man strips off his shirt, exposing his toned chest and soft belly. Then he gets his jeans open, before stepping out of them, along with his underwear. He strips off his socks and then climbs on the bed, over the other man. Richard looks up at him with wide eyes.

Now they’re both nude, pressing together intimately when Christoph moves to lay beside him, partially on top of him. His hard dick rests stiffly against Richard’s hip. Richard turns to face him on his side and immediately draws his arm around him, roaming the width of his hand up along the wide plane of his back. Christoph is a little unsure about this intimate embrace; it’s different than the body worship from earlier. He lays beside him motionlessly while Richard nuzzles into him, nosing at his jaw and kissing over his neck. Their legs are tangled now, naked skin pressed to naked skin.

“You are so warm, Schneider,” Richard whispers. Christoph stiffens. Too much. He places a hand on Richard’s shoulder and pushes gently, until Richard relents and lays back. He looks up at him with needy eyes, hand still curled around Christoph’s side.

Without a word, Christoph leans over him, reaching for the nightstand to grab the bottle of lube he previously placed there. Richard roams his hands up over Christoph’s sides, stroking at him, obviously hungry for the contact. Christoph lets him. He moves to kneel beside him, popping open the lube.

“Spread your legs for me,” he instructs, squeezing some into his hand. Richard hesitates a second, but when Christoph scoots closer, he moves to sit up a little more and lets his knees fall apart. Christoph huffs.

“Like this,” Christoph says impatiently, hooking his hands around his thighs to tug him closer across the sheets, having his upper half fall back against the pillows. Richard sucks in a breath and looks at him with wide eyes. Christoph pulls his legs open, arranging him into a suitable position, and then reapplies lube to his fingers. He reaches down to wipe it between Richard’s asscheeks, earning a shudder from him. Christoph squeezes out more lube, covers his fingers, and then rubs them over Richard boldly, his calm blue eyes trained down on Richard’s flustered face.

Shifting closer, Christoph moves to lean against him, laying on his side, while he begins to ease in a finger, incredibly slickened by the plentiful lube he applied. It makes the insertion easy, and following a few back and forths of that finger, he adds a second. Richard’s brow is furrowed slightly, his mouth open and eyes searching Christoph’s face. Christoph sweeps his gaze down over Richard’s body, silently appreciating the expanse of muscle, the flush to his pale skin, the way he’s wrapping an arm around his thigh, keeping his legs opened. He’s quite beautiful, really. Christoph meets his gaze again and searches in his weakened green eyes as he continues fingering him. This close, Christoph can feel Richard’s rushed exhales brushing against his skin. Richard looks at him with such intense desire. This is remarkably different than their first time together.

The moment becomes uncomfortably intimate to Christoph, so he moves to sit up again. Richard bites his lip watching him shift closer between his legs. Christoph roams his other broad hand up along Richard’s belly, feeling the drift of his body hair against his fingers. He runs his touch down over his side again, fingers mapping across his skin. Richard shudders and watches him intently. Christoph turns his wrist and begins to curl his fingers up towards Richard’s belly, pressing firmly enough to gain a reaction; Richard’s legs jerk and his muscles clench. Christoph watches his face, sees it flicker with pleasure: his mouth opens, his eyes close.

“Do that again,” he gasps, looking up at him with wider eyes. Christoph obliges. He continues studying him as he begins to stimulate his prostate with hard curls of his fingers, his wrist and forearm flexing from the motion. Richard drops his head back and moans. His arm tightens around his open leg, hooked into his knee, his hand clutching at himself. His other hand slides in over his hip to grip his hard cock. Christoph feels heat rush up into his face and down into his belly, watching him begin to masturbate with a pleasure-stricken look on his face, while he continues pumping his fingers into the spot that has him groaning aloud.

Richard strokes at himself without desperation; he pulls slowly at his length with curls of his fingers. He’s merely caressing himself, not quite aiming for a quick orgasm. Just enough to stimulate. Christoph expected feverish tugging. This is a pleasant surprise. He’s pleased, watching him touch himself. Christoph wants to do more. He wants to reward him.

He adjusts himself again; he scoots back enough to lean in, placing one elbow on the bed beside Richard’s hip, giving himself leverage. Richard pulls his hand away, watching with wide eyes. Christoph’s long locks rest over Richard’s belly when he leans in to suck him into his mouth again. He hadn’t removed the condom yet, so this is acceptable. Richard moans. Christoph focuses on fingering his prostate, pushing up against it firmly while slowly, carefully letting his length slide deeper into his mouth, until it’s in his throat and he has to repress the urge to choke. Richard makes a sobbing noise. Christoph continues pressing, pressing, pressing into his prostate, until Richard is grabbing onto him, clutching a handful of his curls, whimpering his name.

“Can I come? Can I come?” he abruptly gasps, desperately asking for permission even though there had been no previous discussion for this sort of thing. Christoph pauses, surprised. Then he begins to move his head, letting his cock slide in and out of his mouth repeatedly, his cheeks tightly sucked in, lips secured around him, with a furrowed brow and closed eyes. His mouth is a little full right now, so this should be an unspoken permission. Richard doesn’t need to ask, though it’s an appreciated gesture.

“Schneider—!” Richard whines, grabbing at him, his legs curling up and shaking. Christoph feels him clench up tight around his fingers. His cock throbs in his mouth. Richard grunts and gasps, his nails digging into Christoph’s neck. Christoph pulls back to suck at the head, earning a choked moan, while continuing to gently finger him. Only when Richard makes a noise of discomfort from overstimulation does he withdraw to see the condom now full. Richard stops grabbing at him, and instead runs his shaky hand over his shoulder, and then curls his fingers around his bicep, a hungry gesture.

“Fuck,” Richard breathes, sagging back into the pillows. Christoph removes his fingers from inside him. He shifts between his legs, moving over him and earning a weak glance. Christoph tends to get affectionate when he bring his subs to an orgasm. He kisses him on the temple, the brow, and then leans up over him to reach for the nightstand again. He grabs one of the condoms from the drawer. He’s ready to move on, and he’s sure Richard is, too.

“Clean yourself up,” he commands, quietly. Richard swallows hard, nods.

He feels Richard’s exploratory hands roam across his sides, stroking at his skin, and then further up to touch his chest, letting his fingers run across his nipples. He momentarily breaks the contact to reach down and remove the used condom, tying it. Christoph takes it and tosses it into the garbage bin beside his nightstand. Richard’s hungry hands raise again to continue caressing him, even as Christoph rips open the condom and rests back on his calves to slip it on; Richard watches, intrigued.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” Christoph asks, flicking his eyes up to meet Richard’s as he grabs the lube and squeezes out a little more. Richard bites his lip and then says boldly, in a lowered voice, “Like this. How we are now.”

Missionary. Simple, intimate, but easy. Will become boring, but they can change. Schneider nods. He’ll indulge the kid for now. He strokes the lube over his hard length—he notices Richard’s gaze flick down to watch. He reaches out to slide his hands up over Richard’s thighs, before curling them under his knees and gently easing his legs higher up. Richard lets him move him how he wishes. Schneider has his legs sliding down to hook over his elbows, while he shifts closer with a quiet creak of the bed.

“I want you to tell me if it hurts at all,” Christoph murmurs, glancing down to watch himself rub the length of his cock along Richard’s—Richard moans weakly. He nods, melting back into the pillows with his head craning back. He watches Richard’s lax, pleasure-weakened face as he slowly grinds into him, letting his slick cock rub against his inner thigh. Reaching down, Christoph grips himself in a broad hand and pins it to Richard’s spent shaft. With slow rocks of his hips, he lets his stiff cock rub against Richard, across his balls and inner thighs, leaving streaks of lube. An agonized, albeit pleasured, expression is on the younger man’s face.

“Please,” Richard whispers, reaching past himself to rest his hands on Christoph’s thighs. Christoph relents; he grips himself and sweeps the head further down to press it to Richard’s wet hole. He rubs against it in a slow circling motion, earning a gasp, and then begins to push in slowly. It’s pleasing watching his body accept his cock as he arches his hips in, sinking in gradually, deeply. Christoph stares. Richard gasps. Christoph feels him clench up around his dick. Christoph shushes him and murmurs, stroking his broad hand up over his side, “Relax. Open up for me.”

“Ngh, trying,” Richard grunts out, his brow furrowing. He moves to sluggishly prop up on a hand, looking down to watch Christoph slowly force his cock deeper into his ass. Richard’s mouth falls open. His eyes widen. Christoph cups his free hand around Richard’s balls, pinning them up for a greater view. He continues gripping himself, keeping himself angled right as he slowly withdraws, slowly sinks back in. Richard reaches out to curl his hand around the small of Christoph’s back, encouraging it with a breathless moan.

Gradually, Christoph begins pushing in deeper and deeper, as Richard’s body begins to accept it. Rocking forward firmly, forcing his cock into him, while maintaining a careful pace, until he’s pushing in entirely, his hips meeting Richard’s thighs. Richard groans and strokes his hand further down to squeeze his ass. Christoph then pulls out entirely, gaining a protesting noise from Richard. He pauses, rubbing the slick head against Richard, earning a whine. He then readjusts his grip and begins to push back in, slowly. Richard moans.

Christoph leans in over Richard, forcing him to collapse onto his back. Richard looks up at him with dazed eyes and a flushed face, his hair now haphazard and wild. Maintaining eye contact, Christoph begins to slowly rock his hips. He pulls out gradually, sinks back in deeply, earning soft moans of pleasure from the younger man. Richard’s eyes are narrowed, trained down on the sight of Christoph’s moving body.

Soon, the tension eases away and the glide is smoother. Christoph begins to pump his hips, stroking his hand up over the underside of Richard’s thigh. Their bodies meet with enough force to create noise; the smacking of their lower halves joins Richard’s continuous grunting and moaning. Christoph watches the other man, breathing hard himself now, his body hot and belly burning.

“Feels—so good,” Richard chokes out, his head lifting with a pleasured grimace on his face. He looks up at Christoph with awed eyes and heavily flushed cheeks. He runs his hand down over Christoph’s flexing thigh, squeezing as his touch descends. Christoph curls his hands around Richard’s midsection, and leans into him, pinning him to the bed. Richard moans and drops his head back down. Christoph begins to snap his hips against him, with more force. He drives into him with jarring thrusts, hard enough to jerk both Richard and the bed. Richard moans, his entire body winding up with tension.

“Schneider!” he cries, nails digging into Christoph’s thigh, “Oh, God, yes! You’re s-so deep, it—it feels so good—!”

Christoph breathes heavily, his brow furrowed, his long curls clinging to his jaw and neck with sweat. He’s bringing himself far too quickly to the apex at this rate. He slows down, considerably, until he stops entirely, hips locked against Richard. He strokes his hands up and down over Richard’s sweat-slick skin, panting hard himself, and then speaks breathlessly.

“I want you to kneel.”

Richard looks up at him dazedly, cheeks red, and nods. Christoph pulls out, glancing down to see his stiff cock pop out—leaving behind Richard’s flushed, fucked hole. A tempting sight; he wants to do so many things to him. But it’ll have to wait. He can play with him later. He moves aside, waits for Richard to get up and do as he’s asked. Christoph notices he’s trembling when he gets up to move onto his hands and knees.

“Like this,” Christoph murmurs, moving up behind him. He curls his big hands around Richard’s belly, pulling until Richard rises up so he’s only on his knees, with his back to Christoph’s chest. Christoph peeks past Richard’s shoulder to watch himself adjust their position; he slides his hands in-between Richard’s thighs and forces them further apart, so he’s kneeling lowly. This position works very well for stimulating his prostate. Peering further past him, he sees he’s actually getting somewhat stiff again.

“Schneider,” Richard whimpers. Christoph sees him run a shaky hand down his heaving belly to grip himself. Christoph hums and kisses him on the shoulder, his curls resting upon his sweaty skin. He then shifts closer behind him, kneeling, and winds one muscular arm around his midsection to keep him still as he grips his cock and sweeps it down between his asscheeks. Their legs align, bodies intimately pressed together. Richard arches his head back against Schneider’s shoulder and breathes, “Oh, yes. This is good.”

“Stay still,” Christoph says, “Don’t move.”

“Mm. Okay.”

Christoph tightens his arm around the younger man as he begins to push in again. Richard is so wet and hot around him; it has him grunting under his breath. It feels amazing sliding back inside him. He pumps his hips a few times, rocking against him—Richard immediately arches his back and moans sharply.

“That feels so fucking good!” Richard gasps, shocked. Christoph cups his broad hand around Richard’s belly and holds him still as he begins to fuck him in quick, hard thrusts that has Richard shouting out and jerking against him. Christoph anticipated this. He locks his arm around him, unwilling to let him wiggle away.

Richard still has his hand on his cock. He strokes at himself weakly a few times, Christoph notices, but then lets himself go so he can reach back and grab onto Christoph. His cock is now fully hard again, standing out desperately, begging for stimulation. Christoph doesn’t offer any. He just keeps hold on him while he fucks him with quick snaps of his hips, driving into him again and again, knowing he’s striking him right where it’s the most intense.

“Oh, fuck me!” Richard shouts, writhing, “Fuck me! Harder!”

Richard’s body is arching away from him, like it’s too much, like he’s overwhelmed, but Christoph doesn’t let him escape. He pumps his hips against him quickly in short, deep thrusts, focusing on the position of their bodies so as to maintain the right angle. Richard cries and moans and whimpers his name, head thrown back into his shoulder. Christoph is close himself. He groans, hidden beneath Richard’s exclamations.

It doesn’t take long. Two minutes of Christoph roughly snapping his hips against him, their bodies jerking and moving together in a messy, sweaty conjoining that is bordering on animalistic, and then Richard is crying out sharply, “I’m coming! I’m coming, Schneider, I’m coming again!”

“Good. Come for me,” Christoph growls, tightening his arm around him. Richard’s body flexes and writhes and wiggles, his hands gripping so firmly onto Christoph’s thighs, it borders on painful. Richard releases the most wanton whimper just as Christoph sees weak spurts of cum shoot out from his cock to drip down onto the sheets. Christoph moans when Richard’s body squeezes around him. He gives a few more shaky thrusts, earning gasps from the younger man, and then stops, buried inside of him. Richard shudders and twitches in his arms. He moans almost deliriously.

“One more,” Christoph whispers, lips pressed to his ear, his eyes downcast to Richard’s trembling body, “I can make you come again. Hold still.”

Richard makes a rough noise in his throat. His hands continue gripping Christoph’s thighs as Christoph begins to thrust again, slow and long at first. A gradual drag out, a firm slide back in. Richard gasps sharply, his body arching. Christoph tightens his arm around him, keeping him rooted against himself, with his other hand settling on Richard’s heaving belly. Richard makes an agonized noise.

“I can’t—It’s too—Too sensitive,” he pants out, writhing against Christoph. Christoph shushes him.

“One more,” he repeats. Richard moans. Christoph begins to pick up the pace; he gently pumps into him, faster and faster, until he’s snapping his hips against him again. By then, Richard is wiggling and crying out and moaning. He tries collapsing forward onto his hands, but Christoph refuses to let him go. He squeezes him in his arms, holding him against his front, and continues pounding into him with aimed thrusts that has Richard clutching at Christoph’s arms.

“Come on,” Christoph growls, mouth pressed to Richard’s ear, his nose in his sweat-dampened hair, “One more. Come on. You’re close, aren’t you? Touch yourself. I want you to touch yourself, Richard.”

“Too much,” Richard groans, writhing against him weakly, nails digging into Christoph’s arms. Christoph doesn’t slow; he continues snapping his hips into him, earning gasping moans from the other man, until Christoph decides he’ll have to do it. He slides his hand down from Richard’s clenched belly to grip and squeeze his aching, half-hard cock in his hand. It’s wet from pre-cum and his previous orgasms.

He begins to stroke at it while quickly thrusting into him—Richard jerks violently against him and shouts. He all but screams his name, his body arching away from him desperately. Christoph doesn’t let him escape. He squeezes his arm around him, stifling his restless wiggling, muscles flexing from the effort. Richard lets out a sobbing moan. He stops struggling; instead, he begins to shake uncontrollably. Christoph grunts when his insides clench tightly around his cock.

“That’s it,” Christoph growls, watching with wide, excited eyes as pathetic droplets of cum spurt out to run down over his fingers. Richard is silent as he twitches and shakes in his arms, his hands clutching at him with an iron-grip. Christoph pulls at his sensitive cock thrice more in long, slow strokes, easing out the remnants, and stops thrusting. He just sits inside of him, watching as his cum drips onto the sheets, his broad hand continuing to hold his spent cock. Richard sags back against him and moans weakly.

Christoph doesn’t need much. He presses his face into Richard’s shoulder, breathing hard, and pumps into him a dozen more times, grunting and groaning, earning an interested silence from Richard, until he finally tips over the precipice and shoves into Richard twice more. Then he stills, teeth grit and breath caught, his entire body alight with a fire, his belly shooting with an indescribable pleasure. He grunts as he shakily rocks into Richard a few more times, soaking in the feeling of his body clamping up around him, and then slowly, gradually pulls out. Richard moans weakly. Christoph is panting heavily.

“That was so fucking good,” Richard breathes, stroking his shaking fingers across Christoph’s forearms.

The temptation to push back inside him and torture him for just a little longer prods at Christoph, but he decides against it. He’s tired, and Richard is totally spent. He can indulge later. Christoph runs both broad hands up and down over Richard’s heaving belly, stroking at sweat-slickened skin, while he noses at the back of his ear.

“You did well for me, Richard. You’re a good boy,” Christoph murmurs, “Now lay down. I’m going to hold you.”

“You fucking better,” Richard laughs breathlessly. He obeys. He lethargically wiggles out of Christoph’s embrace and moves to lay down. He splats into the pillows and nuzzles into them. He moans.

“Why are your pillows almost as good as the sex?” he slurs, “They’re so… Comfy…”

Christoph smiles to himself. While he removes the condom, ties it, and tosses it into the garbage, he admires the view of Richard’s flawless, Adonis-esque figure sprawled across his bed, partially swarmed by the sheets and the plentiful pillows. Reaching out, he lets his fingers drift gently across the swell of his thigh, further upwards, up and up and up, until he’s stroking at the wide plane of his back, touching soft, supple skin. Richard hums with warm pleasure. He turns his head to peek back at Christoph past his shoulder. With two fingertips, Christoph gingerly trails them along the slope of his spine, slowly, a feather-like caress.

“I thought you said you were going to hold me,” Richard whispers, almost petulantly, his face coy. Christoph flicks his gaze up to meet Richard’s. He nods. He slides his hand up over his back as he moves to lay beside him. Richard turns over onto his side, facing him. He tucks one hand under his cheek and smiles at the older man, batting his eyelashes. Christoph shakes his head.

“With your back to me. Under the covers.”

Richard’s smile fades to a displeased frown. He pouts.

“I want to look at you, though.”

Christoph gives him a pointed look—the look that suggests there will be no discussion.

“No. Your back to me. Now.”

Christoph expected attitude, and a fuss. Instead Richard blinks, looks surprised, and then a little bewildered. He rubs his lips together, blushing, and nods. He finally turns over, until his broad back is shown to the older man. He lifts his hips to tug out the covers from underneath them, and pulls it up to his waist. Christoph admires the view. Richard’s hair is messy, flipped up against the pillows. Christoph reaches out to gently stroke the back of his hand over his shoulder blade. Richard shudders.

Shifting closer, Christoph pulls the blankets up over himself as well. He lets his legs tangle with Richard’s as he spoons up behind him. He draws an arm around him, strokes his big hand up over his chest to rest it there. Richard makes a soft noise and shifts a little bit, scooting back to press against him as much as possible.

“You are so warm,” he mumbles sleepily. Christoph glances towards the alarm clock; it’s almost 21:00. He supposes Richard is exhausted from the traveling, and the jetlag. And the fucking. Christoph rests his head upon the shared pillow, his curls sprawled across it. He closes his eyes and listens to Richard’s slow breathing. He feels a weak touch from Richard’s hand to his forearm; affectionate fingers curl around the muscle, squeeze lightly, and then the touch disappears. Richard goes totally lax and still in his arms.

“I want you to sleep now,” Christoph whispers, stroking his thumb in a sweeping motion over Richard’s chest. Richard hums groggily and then goes silent. Christoph shifts closer and kisses him gently between his shoulder blades.

**Author's Note:**

> babypaulchen.tumblr.com


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